The Cautious Seldom Err
by SwoonsAndSais
Summary: Leonardo was sent into the jungles of Central America to become a better leader. This is the story of how he does just that, and why. Movieverse, and new gameverse, as well.
1. Chapter 1

**The Cautious Seldom Err**

**Prologue**

Confucius says, "The superior man, when resting in safety, does not forget that danger may come. When in a state of security he does not forget the possibility of ruin. When all is orderly, he does not forget that disorder may come. Thus his person is not endangered, and his States and all their clans are preserved."

Raphael says, "Confucius was a wordy old blowhard."

I don't know what I say, and that's probably why I left.

Central America is beautiful. I would say that anything could be beautiful after living in a sewer most of your life, (and anything truly natural is a real shock if you've never left New York), but that wouldn't do it justice by a long shot. It really is a beautiful place. There is a deep and ancient majesty in every misty jungle and every moss-covered peak. Everywhere I looked there was something new and green, or something vivid and fragrant. The animals were exotic and powerful, the people (most of them) hard-working and soul searching. It was a place like no other.

I felt encaged.

Not in Central America. It became a second home, a place of tranquility and personal discovery. No, I was trapped by my reasons for being there and my inability to, no matter how I faced them, overcome them. Every demon inside me was like acid, gnawing at my gut until I had to go running at night to exhaust myself enough to sleep without dreaming.

Tonight the stars are out. I can see them clearer than ever before without the smog and bright skyscrapers to obscure them. It's so pristine that I can even make out the fine sprays that you only ever see in picture books. When we were kids, my youngest brother used to amuse our father by renaming all of the constellations to things he could recognize more easily, like television remotes and skateboards instead of Orion's Belt and the dippers. He was always creative like that. My middle brother would have told us all about the trajectory paths of them, what elements they were made of, and how the light we were seeing was actually in the past since it took so long to reach Earth.

My other brother…I don't think he was ever one for stargazing.

And there I go again, defining my experiences through the eyes of my brothers. Until I came here, I don't think I could have said for certain how _I _would react to watching the stars.

Tonight I view them with a kind of veiled nostalgia. It feels like so much time has passed…so many rotations of wheeling stars above me, and then me with my damned cautious inertia.

My campfire crackles and pops, jolting me back to the present with a racing heart. Now I remember why I don't stargaze – I can't afford to lose focus. Things can catch me off guard then, and I am i _nothing /i _when I'm not on guard.

My dried meat dinner is tasteless, as is the small packet of pale white beans that I boil. I think wistfully, as I never thought I would, of burnt microwave meals and cereal in the New York sewers. It doesn't matter – I'm not hungry. I'm exhausted, but I'm not tired.

I hug my knees to my chest, staring into the fire. Tonight I have camped in the middle of a remote part of the jungle that borders the village I have sworn to protect. As fast as I ran to get here, I was careful not to leave a trail where I could help it. My thought process behind this was that it might detract from the untouched natural beauty of this place, but as the night grows darker it seems kind of pointless. Out here, it's nearly impossible to see anything but my small cook-fire and the strange glittering of many eyes. The semi-circle I've built for myself is like the white side of the yin and yang against all of this black, and I am the dot in the middle of the yang. Out here, if I focus long and hard, I can become master of my own chi. I can relegate my positives and negatives, be one with the energy flowing through me at all times…

But nothing, not even Central America, can take away that darkness. There is a part of me, the shady side of my hill, which keeps me from succeeding. I can't put a name to it; it's an elusive thought, a strange and contorted feeling that's been inside me for as long as I've been old enough to realize the dangers of losing my true center.

I can't put a name to it, but I can give it a color. Inside me, the tranquil representative of cool water and peace, my blood runs hot and i _red._ /i 

Confucius says, "If a man takes no thought about what is distant, he will find sorrow near at hand."

Yes, well.

Maybe I'm forming my own opinions after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Cautious Seldom Err**

**Part 1 **

The Mayans invented a marvelous calendar. Several, actually, with math so intricate it still baffles scholars today. One of them has even set the date for the apocalypse sometime in the winter of 2012. Normally I wouldn't give much thought to that kind of superstitious hocus pocus, but…I don't know. The precision, the mechanics, it's all uncanny…and being a strict adherent of bushido has taught me not to knock what other cultures invent. So maybe we're all going to die in 2012. They, the ancient priests, predicted that the world would go in a flood – a great flood, a massive flood to make Noah's look like a baby bath in the kitchen sink. They say it will come from the mouth of a huge and terrible snake.

It's always the reptiles, isn't it?

I don't need a calendar here. I find that the more time passes, the less I care about it. Time doesn't exist out here at all except in the slow change from rainy season to even rainier season. The days are long and hot as hell, but then without warning these huge thunderheads will roll in and all of a sudden the jungle will hush with the onslaught of rain. It reminds me of that TV show Mikey loved, the one where they're all stranded on some island and it just randomly rains? Yeah, I'm living that now. It's a plus sometimes, being amphibious.

It's raining again tonight, which isn't a huge surprise. I managed to make it down into my little cave before the storm started, but just by the skin of my teeth. I pulled the rough wool blanket up to my chin and sighed, in no mood to cook…not after what I'd come across today.

I'd been in the clearing, doing some blindfold training. It was a new kind of test that I wanted to impose on myself. In the city, there were always lights. New York was never, ever completely dark. Here in the jungle, once the sun went down there was nothing – no street lamps, no neon signs, no dirty apartment windows illuminating the crying ethnic children or cheap whores and their million-dollar men. Here there was a darkness so penetrating that it even felt like a weight settling nightly on my shoulders. To combat this, I told myself that I would learn to use my other senses with as much flexibility as my eyes; however, that had proven more difficult than I had thought. While I had become a master of tossing things into the air and slicing them by hearing and proximity training, I knew that the things I would have to face were not likely to follow the same gravitational rules as my falling bits of wood.

It was frustrating, grueling work. It might not have been had I kept a better rein on my emotions, but I was agitated. I was making mistakes. I wasn't, in essence, perfect. This angered me, and as a result I botched my training even further. I sighed and re-adjusted my mask, pulling the eyeholes back into place and examined my blades. Not a scratch on either of them, and all but one of the sticks I'd used to practice sliced neatly in half. All but _one_.

I'm so pathetic.

I sheathed my weapons, preparing to make the long trek back to the cave and turning over everything I had done wrong in my exercise, when I heard a snap and a screech. Immediately I was in the nearest tree, crouched in its sheltering leaves and peering down into the sunlight-dappled clearing below. Damn my own preoccupation, making me lose my focus!

I waited there, poised to disappear entirely, but nothing happened. I heard scuffling, screeching, and the occasional whimper but nothing came through the brush to where I could see it. Cautiously, carefully, I crept down and kept undercover as I moved towards the sounds one well-planned step at a time.

I heard male voices speaking gruff Spanish and one of them was obviously frustrated. Crouching close to the ground I managed to catch a glimpse of them between the leaves of the plant I was behind – two unshaven men, each carrying a gun and wearing khakis, gesturing to something hidden between them. The taller of the men jabbed a finger at his buddy, spat to the side and shook his head, muttering under his breath. The other cast one more look at what was making all the racket, then hopped into the back of their open Jeep. They sped off, coughing up exhaust and tearing huge, ugly tracks in the fresh mud.

I waited an extra thirty seconds to see if they had any friends idling around, and when I deemed it all clear, crept carefully towards their spot.

It was a trap. One of those hideous, jaw-like traps that nearly cut the legs from whatever creature it had caught, and it looked like this one was no exception. It had a…well, a monkey. That was as far as I could get. Little thing, with brownish and white patches and a smushed black face. I frowned at the noise he was making and reached a hand towards him. When he saw me, he opened his little mouth and howled, showing me his tiny, sharp teeth.

"Hey," I cooed, surprised to hear my own voice after so many days of silence. "Hey, little guy, it's okay. I'm here to help you. Quiet down."

He blinked and screeched a few more times, and I frowned. Not that I wasn't used to having that reaction to my appearance, but still.

"I'm going to…" I swallowed, looking at his badly bleeding leg. "I'm going to take care of you, alright?"

He suddenly went quiet, cocking his small head to the side. I moved my hand towards his leg, and he reached one up to me. His tiny fingers curled around one of my large, bulky ones, and I twitched.

"_Leo!"_

_Leonardo looked up, terrified by the frantic look on his littlest brother's face. He was on his feet in a heartbeat, meeting Michelangelo halfway down the sewer tunnel. Mikey gasped, out of breath, "Leo – he's – it's-"_

"_Shhh, Mikey, calm down. What's the matter?" Leo asked, gripping his brother by the shoulders and searching his eyes. _

"_Donnie," he panted. "Down the tunnel. He's hurt, Leo, real bad!"_

_Horror seized all of his functions for a split second and then he exploded into motion, tearing down the tunnel as fast as he could possibly go. As holes and pipes sped by, he could hear the sound of frenzied sobbing growing louder. He doubled his pace, sending murky water spattering against the walls. Rounding a corner, he found his younger brothers in the water, Raphael clenching and unclenching his fists and Donatello with his eyes squeezed shut in agony. _

"_Donnie!" Leo cried, crashing to his knees beside him, searching all over his body for what could possibly be the matter. Was he bleeding, was he-_

"_My leg!" he gasped, and Leo's eyes shot downwards. Sure enough, Don's leg was at a slightly bizarre angle that made Leo close his eyes in sympathetic pain. _

"_It's alright, Donnie, I'm here," he said as soothingly as he could and put a hand to his brother's sweating forehead. Donnie's face relaxed instantly, and he looked up at Leonardo with big, tear-filled black eyes. _

"_It hurts, Leo," he said pitifully. Leo's heart lurched and he frowned. "I know, Donnie. But listen to me…I'm going to fix it in a second. Raph," he said, startling his middle brother, who looked up with dazed, lost eyes. "Can you hold that hand for me?"_

"_Sure thing." Raphael reached forward, prying Donnie's fingers open from the tight ball they had formed. _

"_What happened?" Leo sent him a look as he maneuvered to be closer to Don's leg._

"_We were just playing up on the walk up there, and Donnie slipped and fell. I didn't do anything, honest! Tell him, Don!"_

_Donatello moaned, and shifted. _

"_Stay still for a second, Donnie-love. I'm going to fix your leg, but first I…" he chewed his lower lip. "Do you trust me?"_

_Donnie opened his eyes again, and Leo reached a hand towards him. Don grasped on to one of Leo's fingers and squeezed, hard. _

"'_Course." _

_Leo felt ill, but nodded. He touched his brother's hand to his cheek momentarily, then handed it to Raphael, who grasped them both in his own. "Alright, Donnie," he said more calmly than he felt. "I need you to recite the alphabet for me."_

_Don's brow furrowed. "…huh?"_

"_Please."_

"_Uh…okay. A…B…C…D-"_

_Leo moved fast, jamming the dislocated knee back into place with a cracking pop that echoed through the tunnel, followed swiftly by Don's ear-shattering wail of pain. Mikey chose just that moment to come around the corner, finally catching up, and stared in horror._

"_What did you guys do to him?" He yelled accusingly, but it was lost in the din. _

_Raph made a face as Don squeezed his hands like there was no tomorrow. Leo was back at his head immediately, pulling off his full-coverage purple mask and running a hand over his forehead to soothe him once again._

"_It hurts, I know, I'm sorry…I had to…there was no other way…" he murmured, guilty for having to be the cause of more pain. _

_It took another five minutes to quiet him down, but eventually his wailing subsided into hiccupping and sniffles. They managed to get him up and leaning mostly on Raph, since they were all still just a bit too little to carry him back to the lair. He stayed off his bad leg, hobbling on the one and letting Raph take his weight for the other. As they made their slow progress down the tunnel, Leo took a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart. _

_Just a dislocated knee, he told himself. That's all. _

"_Leo."_

_Leo blinked at the sound of his own name, and turned to see Don look at him seriously. _

"_Yeah?"_

"_Stop that." He smiled brightly. "You didn't hurt me. I'm tough." _

_Raph snorted. "Tough as a turkey. I've never heard anyone scream like that before."_

_Don frowned. "If you hadn't dragged me up to that thing in the first place, I wouldn't have-"_

"_If YOU had been a better ninja and hadn't lost your balance-"_

"_You're one to talk!" _

"_Know it all."_

"_Show off."_

_Leo lifted an eyeridge and smiled, which grew a little bit more when he felt Mikey slide his smaller hand into his older brother's. _

"_You're a superhero, big bro," he said, and grinned. "Now, can you save them from waking up all of New York?"_

_Leo laughed, and shook his head. "Dunno. Maybe if I had a cape." _

"_Hah! Spiderman doesn't have a cape."_

"_Spiderman doesn't have three crazy brothers." _

"_Guess his life just sucks," Mikey said succinctly, and let his head rest on his brother's capable shoulder as he savored the fact that he'd actually made Leonardo laugh._

I slammed back into the here and now like a train wreck, blinking and gasping. There was a fine sheen of sweat on my forehead, and I was disoriented. What the hell was that?

The monkey was still patiently holding on to my finger. I busied myself by flipping the catch so that the trap sprung open, and gently lifting the monkey's body from it. He screamed at me, but I was being as gentle as possible. Had it been his hand on mine?

I was swift, but still I knew that the journey was extremely painful for the poor little guy in my arms. We made it back to the cave without too much bloodloss or anything worse happening. I brought him down to where I slept and started a fire, intending to cauterize his wound as best I could. As I stoked the flames, I tried to ignore the images of my brothers dancing on my closed eyelids. I hadn't thought of them for months now, and…

A screech, and I realized that there were sparks flying at the monkey from where I was roughly jabbing at the flames.

"Sorry," I said to him, feeling kind of idiotic, and brought the flaming stick I'd been using over to him. He looked terrified and I couldn't blame him, but I tried to be as gentle as possible when I pinned him to the rock. A hiss, the stench of burning fur, and I closed my eyes while he howled wildly and thrashed.

"It hurts, I know, I'm sorry…" I said, then stopped. Damn it all. Flashbacks just weren't supposed to happen in real life.

The monkey left while I was fixing something to eat. I'm not sure how, but there were peculiar drag marks leaving my cave. I could probably have tracked him, but I'd done all that I could do. Nature would take care of him the way it saw fit. It…was best if I didn't think too much about it.

There were other things I didn't want to think too much about, either, so after I'd eaten something I threw myself into my katas vehemently. My balance was perfect, every stroke of my katanas completed with grace and deadly precision. I was going through the motions, and that wasn't helping much, either. In the end I just crawled into my furs and tried to sleep. Even if I dreamt, it was the only thing left to do.

_"Leo…"_

_Leonardo didn't hear him. He was deeply and completely elsewhere, his body still performing but his mind running rivers down some mystical, peaceful Eden somewhere very far away. _

"_Leo…" the voice was closer this time. Still no response._

"_Leonardo!" _

_His eyes focused, and he stumbled. "I…huh? Raph?"_

_Raphael looked perturbed. "Dude, you been doing this for three hours now. It's four in the morning." _

_Leo blinked, dazed, and looked around the dojo. "…Oh. I guess I just-"_

"_Lost track of time? Yeah, heard that one before." Raph smirked, crossing his strong arms over his chest. "I suppose you're also gonna tell me that nothing's wrong, neither." _

"_Nothing b is /b wrong," Leonardo said curtly, sheathing his katanas and bending to pick up his practice mat. "I just didn't know it was so late."_

"_Have it your way." Raph shrugged and watched him intensely, which, if Leo had hair on the back of his neck, would have sent it standing. _

"_How'd you know I was down here, anyway?" Leo asked, turning to peer at him suspiciously. "I'm pretty sure these aren't loud exercises, so I doubt I was keeping you awake." _

" _Nah. But the light's on, and I dunno…been watching you for awhile." _

"_To improve on your technique?"_

"_To watch you. That's it." Raphael said, smirking at something on the floor. _

_Leonardo didn't quite know what to make of that. He went in a circle, flipping off the overhead lights and dousing the few extraneous candles he'd left on for atmosphere. When he was done they stood across from each other, silent and awkward._

"_Well…I guess I'm going to bed."_

"_Gonna get your butt whooped. Practice is in three hours, and I know even you ain't above a little bit of lethargy."_

"_That's a big word, Raph. I'm proud."_

"_I'd punch you, but I'll wait till practice so Splinter sees."_

"_The prodigal son."_

"_We can't all be you."_

_Leo's face suddenly went stony and chill. He averted his eyes. "I wouldn't suggest you try."_

_There was a beat of silence, then he felt his chin being tipped up by a sturdy and insisting hand. He stood there and let Raph search his face with serious eyes furrowed in concentration. _

"_You really think that, don't you?" _

_He had no answer for that. Raphael shook his head slowly. _

"_You contrary sonofa-"_

"_Are you two done girl talking and cuddling? Don and I can hear you from in here, y'know."_

_They both looked up to see Mikey on the landing, grinning at them sleepily with his old, beaten up panda slung over his shoulder. They stepped apart immediately, not looking at one another. _

"_Thought so. G'night!"_

"'_Night…" they both mumbled, and before Mikey had clicked off the final light, had disappeared to their rooms._

_But the conversation replayed itself in both of their heads until dawn. _

There was something wet and insistent at my mouth.

"What're you…doing?" I mumbled, but didn't open my eyes.

The wetness pressed more firmly. Someone was grunting.

"I told you, not where someone could see…"

More grunting. I blinked my eyes open slowly…then they shot open by themselves.

"Whoa!" I cried, crawling back a foot or two. "What the hell are i you /i ?"

There was a…a something in my bed, and it definitely wasn't who I'd been dreaming it was. This thing was much different; shorter, and…hairier. It was like a pig, almost, except its nose was longer and kind of…elephanty.

"What are you doing in my bed, huh?" I asked it, as if I expected it to give me an answer. It blinked up at me with disinterested black eyes, then went back to snuffling around in my covers. I sighed and rubbed my eyes.

"If you're looking for food, I have absolutely nothing to give you. I'm all out," I said, spreading my arms to it in a gesture designed to communicate 'sorry'. It looked at me sidelong and I twitched, noticing that its head was a weird, elongated kind of shape.

"What _are _you, fella?" I asked it. It did not dignify me with a reply.

I stood, stretched and shook my head. "Well, look. This is kind of a private thing, here, this cave. And I'm going out now, and so are you." I walked behind it and tried to herd it to the opening of the cave, but it would have none of that. It just stood and blinked at me blankly. "Come on," I said a bit more forcefully. "Shoo. Move it. Go."

Nothing. I rolled my eyes and started to strap my katanas to my shell, getting ready for a morning run. As I was tying off my belt, I noticed it in front of me, staring.

"I have no food. Please leave."

It did not seem inclined to cooperate, so I looked around. There was really nothing here it was likely to steal, so…

"Okay, fine. Have it your way."

I crawled into the daylight, blinking into the already-hot sun. It looked like today would actually be rainless, but then again, it was the jungle. Who could tell?

As I was limbering up and stretching, I heard snorting behind me. I turned to look over my shoulder, and sure enough there was my bedmate. If he'd had a tail, I swear it would have wagged.

I glared at him. "At least you're outside now. Let's keep it that way," I said by way of farewell, and sprinted off into the jungle.

I made a round of what I considered to be my "home base", or rather the area of the Jungle that I'd come to know best, and was thus to me the most safe. I dismantled only two traps, which I considered an improvement over the past couple of days. There was nothing much going on in "my" neck of the woods, so I pushed my route a little bit farther. I cut a wider radius through the thinner parts of the forest, where the light shone full and bright through the canopy. There was a little miniature waterfall there, which, while it was also picturesque, was useful since I'd exhausted my water supply the night before. I cupped a little bit in my hands and touched my tongue to the water, tasting it. It seemed clean, but I only risked a small sip before filling the skins I'd brought along in my pack.

Because of the water flow in that area, there was also a particular abundance of fruit. I went back to the cave with a backpack full of food, which would hold me until I could pick enough to trade with the villagers for other staples. That was always risky business best done rarely, and I wasn't in dire straits just yet.

It took me a full ten minutes to realize that, even though I'd been gone well over two hours, I was not alone.

"Oh, come on," I said angrily to the thing that had flopped down next to my campfire rocks. It picked its head up and watched me sling my pack off my shoulders. "I'm warning you," I pointed at it with a plantain. "If you're not gone by the time I get back tonight, I'm eating you." This either didn't frighten him or he didn't care, because he just lay back down and went to sleep.

"And you wonder why you're not ready to come home yet," I muttered out loud to myself.

The clearing was, as usual, clear. The only thing in my way that day was a little green snake that I placed out of harm's way and he didn't seem too upset about it. I had decided that today I would continue my blindfolded practice, since my concentration had been broken the day before. I didn't have anything truly special in mind other than practicing my normal sword skills so that I could get a feeling for doing them without benefit of checking where the stroke fell. It wasn't much, but it was a start. I was in no mood to watch myself fail at the falling stick exercise again.

I must have been practicing for about an hour when I heard the frantic panting. I turned my mask back around and looked, but there was no one in the clearing just yet. In fact, it didn't sound like they were headed here at all. I sheathed my sword in a flash and had my cloak on in seconds, grabbed my pack and melded into the shadows of the jungle.

The breathing was labored, but even so I could tell it seemed to be coming from a child. The pitch was high, but distinctly masculine. I followed it, relying more on my ears and tracking abilities than my eyes and justified it to myself as part of my training for this reason. Besides, if it was a villager…well, this was part of my job.

Whoever it was had crashed through the trees with little care as to what happened to leave behind a trail. I followed easily, close enough to hear the breathing but far enough away to need the broken plants to know where to go next. I kept my ears open, just in case whatever was chasing this person suddenly caught up.

There was the sound of stumbling and a cry of pain. I saw him, then – a little village boy of about six, fallen over a log and gasping for breath. He gripped his ankle and looked behind him, terrified. I was already gone, poised on one of the lower, leaf-obscured tree branches above him. I waited, and watched.

Sure enough, while the boy was desperately trying to get up and move with his twisted ankle, the same two men I'd seen the night before came crashing through the underbrush, guns leveled at the him before he could even cry out. They circled him, grinning like two huge vultures. They said something in Spanish. All I got was "where" and "the medallion".

The boy shook his head, tears running down his face. They were getting closer. I had to do something, and fast. I had no doubt that this boy would not survive otherwise.

I leapt down. They both turned at the rustling I made when I landed, but were just off with their aim. I crept around behind them, putting all of my ninja skills to the test to avoid any underbrush that would give me away. I made it right between them without them noticing.

"Let the boy go," I said, low and dangerous.

i "_Dios mio!" /_i one of them said, nearly dropping his gun but fumbling and securing it again. He looked at his superior, who frowned.

"Who is there?" he asked in jilted English. I said nothing, but started to climb the tree again. While they turned in slow, stupid circles- their second mistake; their first had been not to run- I steadied myself and got my rope lasso out of my pack. Before they could take notice of the boy slowly creeping away, I threw the lasso down and hauled them both up. Their guns dropped but didn't fire, thankfully, and they both cried out in surprise. I didn't blame them. Soon enough, they didn't make any sounds at all.

Once they were tied to the tree trunk with several lengths of vine, I ran ahead to see where the boy had dragged himself. He was crying, trying bravely but pitifully to pull himself through the dirt and undergrowth. I frowned. He would never make it home by dark this way.

Well. Ninjas may keep to the shadows…but helping others sometimes requires sacrifice.

"Hey," I said cautiously, stepping out so that I could be seen. His eyes widened, but he said nothing. Only stared.

"Do you speak English at all, amigo?" I tried, annunciating my words as much as I could. He nodded.

"Si…a little." That was all I got out of him as he continued to stare at me. I can't say that I was surprised.

I knelt next to him and opened my bag. "I'm going to take care of you, okay? What's your name?"

"Sancho," he said, and watched me lift his leg. He winced when I probed his ankle, but was brave and didn't cry. I had no ice for the swelling, obviously, but I could wrap it as best I could and carry him back at the very least.

While I cleaned the dirt from his ankle and bound it, he watched me with dark, intelligent eyes. "Are you a ghost?" he asked after a bit.

I was a bit surprised. Out of all the questions he could have asked, that was not the one I'd been expecting. I looked up at him in amusement.

"What do you think?"

"I guess so. _Mi madre_ says that there is a ghost in this jungle that protects our village. That must be you. Why do you want to look like a lizard though?"

I smiled wryly. "Turtle, actually. What does your mother say about being out in the jungle alone?"

He shrugged. "She said not to, but she had to go to the base today. It was payment time."

"So you wandered out alone?"

"I had to. I had to find something to eat for my sister and I."

I turned this over in my mind. "What payment does your mother have to give at the base?"

His eyes turned very sad. "I am not too sure, _Senor el Fantasma_. Ever since our father died, they say that her worth is only in her body. She goes to the men in the camp twice a month, and for that they leave our house alone when they collect taxes."

Sancho may not have been sure what his mother was doing, but I had a pretty good guess, and it made my blood boil. "Has no one tried to stop these men?"

He looked at me as if I were insane. "No one can. They are too many, and too strong. We cannot fight them, Senor."

I secured his wrappings and lifted him into my arms. He was so thin, he barely weighed anything at all. He looked scared, and wrapped his arms around my neck. Something in me warmed at the touch.

"Sancho…I'm going to take you back to your village now. And I want you to know, you're mother isn't going to have to do that anymore."

He searched my eyes. "Why not?"

I smiled at him. "Because I'm going to stop them."

"But you're a ghost!"

"You're in my arms."

He considered this. "You are a very strong ghost."

"Yes. One that's going to make sure you get home safely, and that it remains safe for as long as I can help it."

Sancho accepted this answer. I tucked him close to my plastron, shaded by the hood of my cloak, and took off at a gentle run.

I set him down just outside the perimeter of my village. He grinned at me, looking exhilarated.

"No one will believe me if I tell them I have met you."

I chuckled. "Well, maybe they'll catch sight of me one day, too."

He licked his lips. "You will come back here?"

"Yes. You may not see me, but I'll be watching this village. I'll make sure nothing happens to your mother, Sancho."

He nodded, and leaned against the stick we'd found nearby to help him walk. I handed him a sack full of fruit, which he took gratefully. "Okay, Senor. Come visit me again soon!" He smiled, and then turned.

"Oh, hey. Sancho?"

"Si?" he looked at me over his shoulder.

"What is 'the medallion'?"

He grinned again and fished under his shirt, holding up a gold necklace with a red jeweled center. "This."

I was taken a little bit aback. That wasn't something I had imagined a poor village boy wearing, but…

He nodded to me once more, then continued. I watched a few of the older women of the village call out to him, surrounding him and exclaiming over him and his ankle. They herded him back towards his house. He turned to look at me again over his shoulder, but I had already faded back into the shadows, and when he turned around I was gone.

When I got back to the cave, I was exhausted, both physically and mentally. My body was in peak physical condition, but the added tension of high emotional stress was not something it had felt as of late. All I wanted was to boil my water and enjoy a cup of bitter cacao before I turned in for the night. That was just what I was about to do, too, before I heard a snuffling sound to my right.

I groaned, but opened my eyes to the inevitable as I found my new roommate shuffling towards me happily from the corner he'd been lurking in.

"You're still here," I said intelligently. He nosed at my pack, which weirded me out a little bit, but I resigned myself to fate and brought out a banana.

"This what you want?" I asked him. Apparently so. He licked at it with his long, pinkish tongue before chewing happily.

I watched him eat for a minute, then went back to my water. He finished his snack and came over to watch me for a change. I looked down at him as I fed the fire another log.

"You're hideous, you know that?" He grunted at me. I nodded. "Thought so. Well, I guess if you're going to stay here tonight, I better give you a name."

He nosed around my pack again, but I shook my head. "Uh uh. You want more, you have to go forge for yourself."

The prospect of doing his own work must not have been too appealing, because he flopped down and showed no signs of moving again for the night.

"Hmnph," I snorted. "I'd call you 'Mikey' for the way you act, but I guess that's kind of unoriginal of me." I got out my little battered cooking pot, and stared into the fire.

"How about," I began, and looked at him over my shoulder, "I follow Sensei's example, and call you Botticelli?"

He lifted his head, then dropped it again, which I took as being a sign of agreement.

"Alright then. Botticelli, you can stay here tonight. But that's _it, _do you understand me? I work better alone."

I don't know why, but my eyes started to sting when I said that.

"Really."

If he heard the waver in my voice, he didn't care.

"I should be used to it. You're not the only one who doesn't believe me when I say that, and doesn't listen to a damn thing else that I say."

He grunted and turned his back on me.

"Yeah," I sighed. "That's what he would have said, too."


	3. Chapter 3

**The Cautious Seldom Err**

**Part 2**

**Donatello **

There are many kinds of adhesives in this world. There are the natural vegetable resin-based kinds, or the kind spun from organic materials that have since decayed. There's also the wide variety of synthetic elastomers of carbon, hydrogen, oxygen and/or silicone common in the everyday household to consider. You might even whip out your hot glue gun to appreciate the thermoplastic properties for arts and crafts or a quick fix-it job, watching as the polymers mend what you may have torn asunder.

None of them were going to help me piece things back together now.

I had remained stationary, as I always had, at my computer desk while my family came unglued around me. I tried so hard to fix it… except this time, I was in way over my head.

Speaking of which, my head was pounding from the latest round of technophobes I dealt with day to day. They called me in a frenzy of ineptitude, so that I might solve all of their technological problems for them. It was one thing to not have my brothers understand my passion for tinkering; it was another entirely to try and explain it step by step to people who refused to accept that they just might not be naturally gifted with machines. A few hours of that wore on me more than any of our ninja training ever had.

I must have drifted off, because I was quite suddenly jolted awake by a touch on my shoulder.

"Leo?" I blurted without thinking, but found myself looking up into Mikey's apologetic blue eyes, framed by his sad smile.

"Naw, dude. S'just me. Sorry."

I leaned back and heard my back crack from my head to my tail. We both winced.

"Ow," I muttered ruefully. "I guess I fell asleep."

Mikey grinned at me sideways. "Guess so, genius. How long'd that take you?"

I swatted at him half-heartedly. "What're you doing up so late anyway?"

"I dunno…" he fiddled with the iPod he had in his hand. "I was just enjoying the night for awhile. You know, listening to music and…thinking."

We both paused for a moment at how odd that sounded coming from him. Before I could make a snide comment, however, he ducked his head.

"I know. Weird, right? Me? Thinking?" He gave a little self-deprecating laugh. "Maybe the world's gonna end. Then there will be a new Big Bang, and people will evolve from turtles this time and worship us as Gods."

I smiled. There were so many things wrong with that sentence but…oh, what were you gonna do? It was Mikey.

"You miss him, too, don't you?" I asked, and leaned back in my chair. He nodded and wordlessly set his iPod down on my work desk. We didn't need words for what happened next anymore. I just tucked my legs together a little and he knelt beside me, resting his head on my knees. Without thinking, I idly began stroking his head and he hummed.

"Donnie…?"

"Mmhmn?"

"My iPod's gone all frozen. Can you fix it?"

"Mmhmn."

He stared at the ground for a minute with a serious expression so uncharacteristic of him that I frowned. "Mikey, what is it?"

"You can fix anything, right Donnie?"

He was so innocent, even after nearly twenty years of hiding and fights and monstrosities. That's what I loved about him the most; I think that actually went for all of us. Living in the sewers wasn't half so bad when we had our own private ray of sunshine walking around wreaking havoc. It broke my heart to see him like this, so torn and introspective.

I tapped his head and he looked up at me. Smiling gently, I opened my arms and he slid into my lap willingly, nuzzling his head into my neck and placing a secret kiss on my jaw. I sighed, and looked around the room. There were chairs with broken legs, and a radio with a snapped antenna. There were telephone circuits that needed to be changed (Master Splinter; too many buttons), and more complicated tasks like the blown microwave (Mikey; metal cup), and things so mundane they didn't even register on my list, like the light bulbs that needed to be replaced (Raphael; baseball bat). A torn sofa, a loudly humming second-hand fridge…all of these broken bits and pieces that made up my entire, complete world, along with the squirming body nestled snugly against my chest.

But as I looked around my broken home, I realized that there were just some things that I guess weren't meant to be fixed.

I'm a technical genius. That means that I'm resourceful and can use whatever I must to achieve what I've set out to do…

But even I can't fix a well-oiled machine if it's missing its most critical piece.

** Leonardo **

I slept fitfully that night. My impromptu (and rather one-sided) conversation with Botticelli about my brother's habits had drudged up memories I had worked very hard this past year or so to suppress. In my folly, I had imagined that I could forget a lifetime's worth of them, if only I trained hard enough and focused on nothing but the here and now. Unfortunately, I've always been an ideal fool. That might be what made Master Splinter choose me as leader in the first place, but sometimes it seemed like my idealism only made me, and everyone I knew, hurt.

I tried to remember him as he was when we had parted – wounded, confused, and angry. I tried to remember the frustration that bordered on hatred I'd felt in my stomach for him, to recall his cruel parting words. I tried, I really did. It didn't work.

I slept fitfully because I remembered him as he was before all of this mess began. I remembered him when I loved him without complications, and it came to me that night when I had no control over my memory at all.

_Raphael was tough. No one contested that, not even their father. When they were babies, he'd been the one who'd walked first. He'd been the one to defy his father, stand on the chairs, and reach the cookies for his brothers. He'd taken the blame with a sullen face, a mumbled "never do it again" and his fingers crossed behind his back. Never once had he stumbled, and cried. He'd taken plenty of spills, sure; during training, out on runs, and even when playing around on the various sports equipment their father indulged them with, but there had never been a time where he'd shed tears in front of his brothers no matter how bad the scrape. Michelangelo fell more than any of them, and he whimpered at even the sight of blood. Donnie was sensitive, Leo felt everything deeply, but Raph? There were no tears left in his dry brown eyes. _

_At least, not until the lights went out. _

_Mikey was had been afraid of the dark. They all teased him about it, even now at thirteen, but what they didn't know was that it was Raphael who sat awake in his room at night, jerking whenever a shadow seemed to move. It was a mystery to them why he'd been sluggish and irritable lately (well, more than usual). The thought never crossed their minds that he, tough, capable Raph, might be afraid of the dark to this day._

_To Raph, it wasn't that the dark scared him. It was what might be –in- the dark that was worse. Thugs, aliens, or worse – scientists that had found their home and wanted to take his family away for tests. All of these might be lurking, waiting to strike if he only closed his eyes. To Raph, it wasn't a fear – it was his duty to stay awake in order to protect those he loved._

_But Leo had noticed. Leo always did. _

_"What, you gonna cry now? Serves you right. Maybe next time you should watch your back, more than your dumb computers!" Raph was screaming down at a shocked Donatello, who had frozen where he'd been thrown to the ground. His eyes were wide, and hurt. _

_"Raphael!" Leonardo called, tone commanding. "That's enough! What are you doing? This is training, where's your sense of honor?"_

_Raphael glared at him, narrowing his eyes dangerously. "Yeah, you want some too, Splinter. Jr?"_

_Leo was not in the mood for this. Michelangelo stopped swinging his nunchaku, and walked over to his older brother, reaching a hand down to Donnie, who accepted it gratefully. Mikey stared up at Raphael, and the older turtle turned away in disgust. _

_"Not worth my time," he muttered, and disappeared into his room. _

_They didn't see him for dinner, though Donatello knocked politely on his door and placed a tray of food outside. An hour or so afterwards, they heard the destructive sounds of him beating something up and shattering glass not too long after that. Splinter was silent on the matter, but as he sipped his after-supper tea, his eyes met Leo's and they nodded in agreement. _

_If someone had to confront Raphael, there was usually little question as to who it was going to be._

_But tonight, Leonardo had a different plan. Tonight, he was going to let Raphael lead…as long as he needed to. _

_It was a little after midnight when Leonardo snuck down the hallway, passed Donnie's room, and crouched outside of Raphael's, listening for his breathing. He heard nothing, and figured it was safe enough. _

_He pushed the door open slowly, and watched the little nightlight they left on in the hallway cast a line of orange on the floor inside. He barely had time to contemplate the shards of glass on the floor before he was tumbling through the air and roughly landing on his back, one glittering sai at his throat. _

_"Leo…?" Raph hissed quietly, and backed off. Leo, a little shaken, sat up slowly._

_"Guess I should knock first, huh?" he joked lightly. Raph grunted, and tucked his sai back into his belt. He hadn't even gotten undressed yet. He reached a hand forward and helped Leo up. _

_"Yeah, well," he muttered, turning away. "Whaddaya want?"_

_"To figure out why you haven't been sleeping, Raph."_

_Two angry brown eyes swung towards him in the still-dark part of Raphael's room, glittering like a wild animal whose home has been threatened. _

_"I sleep."_

_"Sure you do. We're not blind, Raph. You have dark circles under your eyes, and you're not your usual charming self."_

_Raphael had the grace to smirk at that. "You guys just can't take a joke."_

_"Your health is no joke." Leonardo softened his voice, taking a step towards him. "We're worried about you."_

_Raphael deflated, sitting on the edge of his bed. He looked small then, younger than his thirteen years even, surrounded by posters of wrestlers he admired and bikes too big for him yet. Leonardo sank down next to him on the tattered old mattress, listening to the bed squeak on aging springs as he did. _

_"Are you going to tell me what's keeping you up?"_

_"Nope."_

_"Will you tell Master Splinter?"_

_"Nope."_

_He sighed. "Well…if you won't tell me, then who?"_

_"I ain't telling nobody nothing." _

_"Not with grammar like that, you're not," Leo muttered. Instead of being irritated, Raph snickered a little bit. _

_"Least I sound street-smart. You sound like a librarian."_

_Leo bit the bullet and grinned. "I thought that was Donnie."_

_"Maybe. Got the same glasses, too." They chuckled a little together until it died down, and then stared at the floor in companionable silence. _

_"You know you have to apologize to Donnie tomorrow."_

_"Yeah, I know. I just…whatever." Raph said, rubbing the back of his neck, at a loss for more eloquent words. _

_"I know." Leonardo sat, lacing and interlacing his fingers as a topic for conversation eluded him. Finally, he had an idea. _

_"Hey," he said, with a little bit of excitement in his voice. "What time is it?"_

_"Twelve thirty. Why? Got a hot date?"_

_"Yeah, and so do you," Leonardo said, laughing. "Come on. Up we go." He tugged his brother up by one arm, and was struck, as he was on occasion, by how brawny Raphael was getting. "Hurry, come on!"_

_"Leo, where're you taking me?"_

_"Topside."_

_That was all Raphael needed to hear. They grinned in conspiratorial silence, and headed for the door. _

_It was a hefty climb to get to the rooftop of the building three streets across, but they made it with little incident outside of an old trash can that Raphael accidentally sent rolling. It was here that they settled into the shadows behind an ancient air conditioning unit, Leo peering intently into a window across the alleyway. Raphael watched where he was looking, but saw nothing of interest until a woman in a nightdress came into view and sat by the windowsill. He lifted his eyeridges. _

_"Y'know, Leo. This is called 'voyeurism', and is considered a crime in most places." _

_"Shh," Leo held up a hand to silence him, and Raph went still. "Listen," he whispered. At first, Raph didn't hear anything but the far-off wailing of a siren and the occasional loud curse. He looked up at Leo in confusion, but his brother was paying rapt attention to the woman framed by gold light in the dingy window not too far away. _

_As he concentrated more on her, Raph could hear her voice emerge from the din of the city, __like a prayer lifted on the wind_

_She was singing. Not just to herself, but to the tiny red-headed infant bundled in her arms, and she was singing a lullaby. Her full lips moved, smiled softly as they formed the words as if each were a special treasure in and of itself. Her frizzy red curls formed a halo around her in the light of her bedside table lamp, and her old, discolored nightdress was like a gown of spun silk. She was almost like a vision of Heaven, because she was something not too far off – she was a mother. _

_Immediately, Raphael felt all of the tension and fears of his body dissipate as he listened to her song. Leo already looked deeply at peace as he settled back against the old air conditioner. _

_He lost track of how long they had sat there listening to her lull her fretful child. Head drooping somewhat, he let it rest against the cold metal behind him. Leo had his eyes closed and was humming along._

_"You come here often?"_

_Leonardo chuckled. "That sounds kind of like a pick up line, Raph. Yeah, I come here whenever I can't sleep. I like listening to her sing. It reminds me of what we're training for, you know? Who we're going to grow up and protect, whenever we forget and think this city's gone bad."_

_Raphael shook his head a little bit. "Master Splinter would have our tails if he knew we were up here."_

_Leo smirked down at him. "We sound like we've switched roles tonight. Well," he said, encouraged by Raphael's sideways grin, "if that's the case, you lead. I'll be here if anyone needs me…" and by 'here', he meant tucked against his larger brother, his head drowsing on Raphael's shoulder. Honestly, he wasn't all that tired, but he knew that Raphael would never relax if he felt like Leo was still awake and alert. As long as Leo had relaxed, it was safe for Raph to do so, as well. Sure enough, as soon as he had settled, he felt Raph's head drooping next to him and then finally fall on top of his own to the sound of soft, but definitely noticeable snoring. _

_It might have frustrated Leonardo once upon a time when they'd all slept in the same bed. Now that they were growing older, it was different…it was just another night-time sound meant to soothe and comfort, like the gentle song coming to a close in the apartment building next door._

_The next day Raphael had awoken before dawn, chilly and confused in the dewy morning light. He looked down, surprised to find Leo basically wound around him, deeply asleep. His eyes blearily searched the rooftop, then the alleyway below, before they finally settled on the window and remembered. The woman was gone, the curtain pulled shut, the spell shattered for the night. Now they were in a spot as to how to get home._

_"Hey," he tried, prodding Leo gently with a finger. No response. He prodded a bit harder. "Leo, wake up."_

_"Mmnno." _

_"Uh. Yeah, you've gotta. We gotta get back."_

_"Stop being a good influence," Leo said half-heartedly, as he'd yawned and stretched. Raphael watched, quiet for a rare moment as he saw his brother framed by sunlight for the first time in their life that was peaceful and without a goal ahead. He drank it in, his mouth hanging open a little at Leo's strong silhouette. Leo noticed his peculiar expression, and blinked._

_"Are you still with me there, Raph?" he laughed. "Maybe you're catching cold from being out here all night."_

_"Says who," Raph challenged, standing and shaking out his tingling limbs. "That's an old wives' tale."_

_"We'll ask Donnie later today."_

_Raphael's eyes flashed. "You tell him we were out here like this, and I'll kill you so hard it'll hurt twice." _

_Normally, Leonardo would have taken the bait and fought back, but Raphael seemed truly upset by the idea of his brothers knowing about what he must see as a weakness. Leo let his shoulders relax, and gave him a slight smile._

_"I won't tell anyone, Raph. Besides, I was out here, too. No sense in us both getting into trouble."_

_"Yeah. Can't spoil your perfect image, can we?"_

_"You don't even want to wait until breakfast before we start fighting today?"_

_"Early bird catches the worm, bro."_

_"But the fastest bird gets the last cinnamon bagel."_

_"Try it, I dare ya."_

_And they took off, their young legs already warming up to speed, their breath crystallizing into clouds as they panted, and their shoulders still tingling from where the other had slept the night through, untroubled and completely safe. _

One would think that dreams about sleep would be relaxing. As I blinked my eyes open and sat up, rubbing my tingling shoulder and rolling my eyes to see a warm black body nestled next to me, I realized that one would be wrong.

Not even my dreams were going to leave me alone. Now, there was no where I could turn to that wasn't fraught with visions of i _him_ /i .

It was at the highest point of the hidden mountain, Sensei had told me. It was protected by many traps. The journey up was arduous, but beautiful. That was all I knew about this medallion that would determine my leadership, and was my reason for staying here so long. Had I gotten it already, would I have gone home immediately?

Likely not. I had just put it off so that I would have an excuse.

Leadership material, indeed.

But something was nagging at me from the night before, and suddenly I felt compelled to re-evaluate my reasons for being here. Sensei had sent me here to train, to "become a better leader", but he had never specified what that entailed. Up to this point I had been flying blind; the only thing I i _did /i _know was that I must ultimately come home with a secret medallion in hand – one that was hidden deep within an ancient temple somewhere in this jungle. It was a kind of trophy, I supposed…one I knew next to nothing about.

Now, all of a sudden, I had a new reason for training. I was going to lead these people to freedom. I would rid them of their shackles.

The thing was, it seemed hypocritical to do that for them if I couldn't even do it for myself. Though, I argued mentally, I had never had a problem ridding other people of their problems. It was my own that always stood in my way.

Which was why I was here. Coming full-circle in my internal monologue was becoming increasingly more frustrating.

I stretched and stood up, cracking my neck with a sigh. Sleeping on the rock bed of a cave was not my ideal choice of bedding spots, but I was surprised to find how used to it I was by now, and how the memories of my old futon back at the lair had faded with time.

My new leech of a roommate was already up, poking about the ashes of yesterday's fire with his strange nose. I mumbled something inarticulate, and resisted the urge to kick up the soot and make him dirty. It wouldn't have mattered anyway – he already matched.

"Botticelli, you old freeloader," I addressed him sternly. "I'm going out now. Either you leave, or if you stay, you don't get all nosey and go through my stuff…er…in a manner of speaking," I finished lamely. "Jeez, I sound like Mikey."

He either did not hear me, or did not care, or the ashes were very, very interesting. I sighed, and shrugged on my burlap robe. It was time to pay a visit to my new friend again.

The village was nestled not too far from the base of the mountain and consisted of a number of simple shacks, a modest little marketplace, and a two-tiered church. The latter was the center of these people's world, but I'd come to realize that they still held certain indigenous beliefs.

"Senor! Senor Ghost!"

Some of which were turning out rather to my advantage.

I smiled down at him from my perch in the tree. "Hi, Sancho. You didn't wake your family, did you?"

He looked like I'd just told him the funniest joke in the world. "Are you kidding, Senor? My family is awake before dawn."

I nodded, and dropped down easily. He looked so small next to me that I felt awkward, and crouched down to be at eye level with him. He looked dazzled just to be near me, which was at once endearing and off-putting.

"Sancho," I said gently, gripping his slight shoulders. "I'm going to start looking around the base as soon as possible, but I need to know – what do the soldiers want with your village?"

He looked troubled. "My mother."

I blinked. "That…that's it? Sancho, what about money, wealth?"

He shrugged. "We don't have much to go around here, Senor. Just what we ourselves can afford. My mother is the only one with any richness to her name."

I took in his tattered looking t-shirt and old, worn sandals. Somehow I doubted the truth of his statement from the practicality involved, but he showed no signs of lying, so I wondered…

I must have looked troubled, because he placed a small brown hand on my arm. I looked up, perplexed, and he smiled.

"It's okay, Senor. We're strong here. I can take care of my mother, as long as things stay like they are."

Shaking my head a little, I patted his hand. "Life's not meant to be just about surviving, Sancho. There's more to it than that." I sighed and looked up at the sun, judging its position. "How far is the base from here?"

He pointed towards the east. "That way, not ten miles. But you're not going by yourself, are you?"

I lifted my robe a little to show him the gleaming handles of my katanas. "Nope. I've got two friends coming along." He grinned, like I'd hoped he would. I smiled back.

"Don't worry about me, Sancho." I stood, and turned to disappear into the jungle when I felt his eyes on me intently. "What is it?"

"Take me with you, Senor."

I quirked a sad little smirk. "You remind me of one of my brothers."

He blinked. "Ghosts have brothers?"

"Um…yes. Well, this one does."

"Are you all ghosts?"

"In a way."

"Oh…" he turned this over in his mind for a bit.

"Sancho?"

"Si?"

"How did you know I was in this tree? I was completely hidden from view."

His face split into the same endearing smile I'd seen on my youngest brother plenty of times before.

"When you've been waiting your whole life to see a Savior come out of the jungle, it's hard not to pay attention to where he might be."

Something about that – his absolute faith in me, maybe – was touching, but a part of me sagged. More responsibility for the defunct fearless leader.

I ruffled his hair, and was gone.

I didn't have the wits or resources to tackle the base problem that night. I'd not gotten enough rest, and I was distracted yet, so I threw myself into meditation. Once I'd slipped down, down, further down than I was used to going, I surrendered myself entirely to Chi, and focused on what might come.

_There was a temple, large, rising upwards into the red, red sky. It looked Mayan, but not ancient and crumbling. In fact, the coppers were all ablaze and smoke was rising from the inside. The carvings were brightly painted, and the steps ran with blood._

_I struggled up the first set of stairs and paused, finding my brother Donatello playing with a golden pyramid that was levitating and glowing, breaking into thousands of little pieces and reassembling itself at his will. He was concentrating so hard that a bead of sweat slithered down his neck and into his shell. I watched him press a button on the top of it and then it blew apart, silently, into dust. He watched it scatter to the wind, then stared blankly at the cinnabar sky._

_"Why would you destroy that thing, Don?"_

_He looked at me, and I was terrified to see that he had no eyes – only black holes where eyes had once been._

_"Because," he said, and his voice was hollow, "no one should have to know what I know now."_

_I stumbled higher, climbing more stairs than before, ignoring how my feet pattered in the blood and left tracks behind that were washed away when fresh liquid gushed down in streams. When I passed another row of burning copper bowls, I found Michelangelo, arrayed in feathers and playing a game of what appeared to be kickball with some locals. He held his arms out of the way and used only his feet, aiming for a small stone hole far below on the field. He seemed to be holding his own, grinning, then aimed and kicked…and watched the ball teeter in the hole, but fall out- not through. The tribesmen came towards him and captured him by the arms, fingering their knives and chanting something at the sky. I watched, horrified, as they dragged him away._

_"Mikey, why did you do this if you knew you couldn't win?"_

_"Because, bro," he said with a sad smile, "It's not whether you win or lose. It's how you play the game."_

_They threw him into the temple, and he was gone._

_I climbed, blindly running now towards the top. I knew what was up there, I knew he was there, and I could save him – I could!_

_I burst through the door of the temple and panted for breath before I lifted my head, and all air was sucked from my lungs._

_Raphael lay in a heap on the floor, gushing the blood that I'd been soiled with in my search for the top. There was no one there- no bloodthirsty, death-seeking tribesman. It was just Raphael, naked and lying on his side in a pool of his own steadily pumping blood._

_I made an inarticulate noise and knelt by him, reaching out a hand to touch him but hesitated. His eyes snapped open, and I nearly wept. They weren't brown anymore – they were as empty and red as the sky._

_"Raph-˝ I tried, but my voice broke. "Raphael," I tried again, "who did this to you?"_

_He didn't answer my question. Instead, he rolled over and stared blankly at the ceiling._

_"This is the way the world ends," he chanted._

_From the shadows, there came a figure dressed in a hooded black robe._

_"This is the way the world ends…"_

_"Raphael!"_

_The figure walked towards him slowly, brandishing a wickedly curved blade._

_"This is the way the world ends…"_

_"Raph!" I cried, anguished. "Move!" My limbs felt like lead, I couldn't get them to respond. I watched helplessly as the figure halted above him, and tossed back his hood. I moaned in anguish._

_"Not with a bang," Raphael said, monotone and hoarse, "but a whimper."_

_The blade came down, swift and sure. More red liquid coated the temple steps. I screamed, helpless, as I watched the figure laugh- myself, Leonardo, black-cloaked and wicked, wielding a scythe dripping with my little brother's blood._

I woke up.

There were no stairs.

Frantic, I looked at the sky.

It was blue. There were stars.

I felt sick with relief, before I ran outside and threw up.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Notes: If you haven't read my warning notice in my profile, I'd do so now. There _is _slash in this chapter. If that offends you, don't read any more. If not...well, hey, by all means, keep going.

Also? Mikey is -hard- to write in the first person. Don't do it. Ever.

Thanks for those who reviewed. I appreciate the feedback.

**The Cautious Seldom Err**

**Part 3**

**Michelangelo **

Okay. So you know what that old athlete dude, what's his name, Yogi Berra? What he used to say? Well, I mean, he said a lot of things, but at some point he said "The future ain't what it used to be." And you know what? He was right. All kinds of right.

I like being right. Right now, I'm wrong. And that totally, completely sucks.

This isn't how I wanted it to be. I kinda had these dreams that one day…we'd win. You know like, we'd nix the Shredder, disband the Purple Dragons, and by some Utrom magic everything would be hunky-dory and New York would be renamed Land of Rainbows and Kittens. My brothers and I could walk outdoors in the sunlight and play kickball at the park together. With like…grass. And trees. And Donnie.

My brothers always told me I was idealistic. It's a tough job, especially with someone like _Raph _as your brother, but someone's gotta do it. I don't care what they say – because sometimes? I dunno…sometimes I still have those dreams. About skateboarding. Ooh, and thick crust double-layered cheese and sausage pizza, New York style, hehe. Oh. And Donnie, too.

Sometimes I still see us together hanging out on the rooftop, listening to music, just enjoying the summer sun. Leo's got his Razor scooter, the one he used to play with all the time. He can still shred up a course like nobody's business if he tries. (I think). Raph's playfighting with Casey, ducking his punches and laughing that raspy Raph-laugh he's got. He loves when Case'll give him a run for his money. (I mean…he used to.) And Donnie…

Don's got a book that he brought along with all good intentions of reading. But, see, in my dreams? The sun is so warm and bright, glinting off the rooftops so that he's gotta lift a hand to shield his eyes to protect him from blindness. He's looking down at his book now, and then back up at the sun…and the book falls from his fingers. Sun would do that to Donnie. It'd be like a new awakening. (I'm sure.)

Then my stomach gurgles and the alarm goes off. It's noon in the underground- but how would we ever know? – and I've got a booking for a party at the YMCA at two. It's not much but…well, you know. Puts pizza on the table, (but like…I'm kinda getting sick of it. Doesn't taste the same without the extra toppings – you know, like laughter. And jokes. And…

…well, no. Not Donnie. That…would be weird.)

So I'm gonna go out and put on that dumb head. I'm gonna get my shell kicked by toddlers to bring in just a little bit of money. I'm gonna do it all with my big, megawatt Mikey smile that my family used to love.

Then I'm gonna come ho-…uh…back to the lair. I'm gonna watch tv till I drool, have some cereal, make sure Master Splinter's got his tea. I'm gonna take a shower – and I won't tell anyone, but I'll use Leo's favorite soap just to smell him again for a little bit. Then I'll brush my teeth, grab my old panda, and sneak into Donnie's room.

He's gonna be passed out on his desk with papers sticking to his cheek. They're all drawings of the things he used to enjoy inventing. You know, like blueprints and stuff. Now he doesn't have time for them anymore, and they've got stuff like customer's phone numbers and notes about their problems scribbled on them, Post-it style. I'll put a hand on his shoulder and lean in, pressing my mouth to his temple. He won't stir, so I'll grin and lick it instead.

"Gyah!" he'll say when he jolts awake. It's his patented Donnie-I-don't-know-what-the-hell's-going-on-noise. Papers will go flying. I'll laugh.

"Dammit, Mikey," he'll mumble, but he'll stand and pull off his wrist guards.

We'll climb into his bed together. He sleeps shell to the wall so that he can hold me, and I can hold my panda. Donnie likes to make sure everything runs like it should. That spills over into our nighttime routine now; so he'll hold me tight and mumble into my neck.

Because after a few hours, I'm gonna have nightmares. I always do anymore.

I joke with Don and tell him they're about birthday parties. We both know they're not, but he doesn't ask questions – for once.

That's when I wish I still had those sunshiney dreams, the ones where the future is exactly what it's s'posed to be.

I hate being wrong.

It really fucking sucks.

**Leonardo **

When I woke up that morning my mouth tasted thick and bitter. I groaned and rubbed my fingers over my eyes, clearing them of sleep and frowning in disgust at the oily morning-feeling that comes on the heels of a night soaked with sweat. It had been a while since I'd last felt it, and even then it had been under considerably better circumstances.

Well. Almost.

With the light slowly working its way into my cloudy mind, the last remnants of my dream began to fade. I could still hear cackling echoing around the walls of my cave, but they were growing distant. This was an immense relief.

_Not with a bang _I heard…_but a whimper. _

Ugh, God. I really had to brush my teeth.

When I felt presentable to myself and the native animals, I climbed the heavy vines to the topmost entrance of my cave. Here, the light filtered down and the little dust motes and jungle gnats drifted through the beams. I startled a few birds into flight when I emerged, grunting and sweating already though it was hardly past dawn. I took a water bladder from my belt and filled it at the little stream nearby, taking care not to collect any unwanted passengers that happened to be skimming the surface.

Doing so reminded me that I had…ahem…other business to take care of. One bladder full, one bladder emptied and the morning ritual would be nearly complete.

I had picked a fairly secluded tree – for what reason, I have no idea. I was completely alone. Common modesty, I suppose?- and was unaware that I had company until I felt something touch me in a place that no one had for _very _long time. I yelped.

"Whoa! I…Botticelli! _What _are you _doing_?" I admonished my suitor, glaring down at him as I tucked myself back up. "Keep that disgusting nose of yours to yourself, you hear me? How the hell did you get up here anyway?

He blinked at me and made some kind of grunting sound. I followed his muddy little tracks back a ways, and inwardly sighed at myself. He had followed the ramp. Of course. Leave it to the Fearless Leader to pick the most difficult if most efficient way of doing things, and being outsmarted by a…jungle pig. Elephant…creature.

"I swear I'm going to eat you," I muttered, but reluctantly followed him back. His pace picked up at the promise of breakfast. My stomach still had not settled, and I was in no real mood for food.

"_Every ninja's day begins with a good breakfast," _I'd often heard my father say. But Sensei, I thought, what if that breakfast falls on a morning after you'd murdered your brother and bathed in his blood?

I had to shake that dream somehow. I _had_ to.

Of course – the village. The base.

Well, no time like the present. Apparently, today would be the day when I put all of this limitless training into action. Today was a pass or fail day.

I wasn't off to a shining start.

**Donatello**

"Well, Sir, what I would suggest you do is take your piece back to the router supplier and ask that they replace it. The one you have should work with no problems considering your modem, so either it's faulty-"

"_Ahh-choo!"_

"…Or, you're missing a circuit board hookup somewhere. Which option would you prefer?"

The call I had lasted another twenty minutes, more or less. Ridiculous, really. There wasn't much I could do for a faulty router from deep within the New York sewers, besides chant a techie blessing or direct my caller to his closest local Best Buy. Still, the masses would not be appeased by easy answers. I had to make up something that sounded a lot more complicated to ensure them that the problem really was beyond their skill level and could not be solved by every day means and-

"Ugh, God…Just punch the guy already! He's getting away! He- _heachoo – _He's got your _sword,_ are you blind?"

…and I had to play nursemaid, to boot.

I stood and stretched, shaking the kinks out of my neck. Jill, my replacement, had just IMed me to tell me that it was time for me to take a break and I thanked her with a hearty ":D!"

I had taken my microwave burrito into the living room when I suddenly heard the next explosive sneeze and remembered I had a patient who would likely be hungry too. Who was I kidding? Mikey was always hungry.

I made my way through the sea of dvds, wireless PS2 controllers and used tissues to the couch with a tray of food for my little brother who had been growing roots there since this morning. He looked miserable, beak red and eyes watering, glaring daggers at the movie on HBO. I smiled a little bit and set the tray down.

"Hungry Mikey?" I asked gently, touching his cheek. He looked up at me gratefully and his face relaxed into an easy smile.

"Are you kiddin'?"

My smile deepened. "That's what I thought. How are you feeling?"

"Sucky. Keep me company?"

"For a little while."

I sat next to him with my burrito and tucked the blanket a little bit closer around his body, placing the tray on his lap. He looked at what I'd made him – Soup, bologna and cheese sandwich, Ginger Ale and…well, I'd run out of steam then. There was a packet of Jell-O and some Gushers, too. He grinned at the latter.

"D'you remember the last time we shared a packet of Gushers?"

I rolled my eyes while I chewed. "How could I forget? I couldn't sit for a week."

His grin grew bigger, if that was possible. Sometimes I was fully convinced that Mikey's smile would split his face clean in half.

I was only half watching the movie. My eyes hurt from staring at the glaring computer monitors of my job for five straight hours and I was taking the opportunity to close them for a little bit. Mikey put his tray aside and stretched his legs over my lap, wiggling his toes in pleasure. Food bought him a little respite for a time, but it was short lived. Sure enough, before the next commercial break he was sneezing again and groaning in frustration. I patted his legs in sympathy.

"You wanna be a little bit louder, Mikey? I don't think they heard ya in Scotland," we heard a growl from behind us and both turned simultaneously. Raph had come downstairs – finally- and was standing over Mikey with a face that showed he'd been woken up earlier than he'd planned on.

Mikey stuck his tongue out at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I disturb your rest? Allow me to shed a tear for your sorrows that will sparkle with my sympathies like magic on the cheek of a blushing unicorn."

I snickered. Raph snarled, clocking him on the head hard enough to make Mike wince.

"Ow!" he protested, then sneezed again.

"What's with you, anyway? Thought you had another tea party to host today."

I looked at Raph as if he'd grown three heads. "Mikey's allergies are acting up again. We decided it'd be best if he stayed home."

"Better to crash a little kid's party than keep us awake," he muttered, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Mikey looked petulant and a little bit wounded. I shook my head.

"Don't let him get to you, Mikey. It's not your fault, and he needs to learn to get up earlier, anyway."

Mikey looked at me, and for a minute I wanted to kick Raph into next Tuesday. Then he grinned at me and I forgot what Tuesday came after, anyway.

"You mean it's _snot_ my fault?"

"Mikey," I said warningly.

He laughed. I forgave him.

Raph came out with a bowl of leftover chili about half an hour later once Mike had relaxed and fallen asleep, snoring like a buzz saw with his stuffed up nose. He looked at our little brother, then at me. I held his gaze with indifferent eyes.

He vanished into the hallway and I went back to staring mindlessly at the television. I wasn't following the story much at all, but Tom Cruise seemed to be finding his footing as a samurai in a Japanese village. I quirked a grin when I saw him try to pronounce 'chopsticks' in Japanese, then let my head fall and shut my eyes again.

There was a slight breeze then a "whumph" sound as something hit my head. I looked around in confusion, then saw Mikey's old decrepit panda on the floor by my feet. I turned around and there was Raph, standing at the door and facing away from me.

"…He sleeps better if he's got that," he murmured, then left.

I picked it up, fingering it. It smelled like tomato sauce and, curiously, Leo's soap. The sound of heavy metal music was muffled from one of the upstairs bedrooms.

"Raphael," I sighed, as I tucked the bear to Mike's plastron. He curled around it and muttered something in his sleep and began to snore again. "What are you doing to us…?"

The clock ticked on the wall. Jill probably needed me back by now but I was too tired to get up.

Too tired to try and put my finger on problems I didn't want to mess with anymore.

**Leonardo**

It was a fair run to the village, but I made it earlier than I normally do. I'm not sure if I was running just to get there, or if I was i _out /i _running something else entirely. In any case, I made it there just as the sun had reached its noontime peak. This was good. At noon, there are no shadows to give away where you are.

I crept around behind the huts this time, peering into each one to see if I could identify the occupants therein. There were an abundance of old women and men, wives cooking _tamales _and children playing with wooden toys on the floors. I saw few if any men, and surmised that they must be out working – doing whatever it was that this village did for a living. I admit, I was fairly stumped.

At the end of a row of orange shacks, there was one in particular with a kind of bright red flower blooming on the front porch "steps". Inside this one, I saw Sancho playing with his baby sister while his mother mended a shirt on their one and only bed. I hid behind the window sill, waiting and watching until his mother took her sewing into an adjacent room. As soon as she was out of sight, I rapped quietly on the warped pane of glass. Sancho looked up, then his eyes grew wide. He yelled something to his mother in Spanish, and she said something back. He placed his sister on the little trundle bed and gave her a doll to play with, then ran outside and around the back.

"_Hola, Senor_. I am pleased you would come to see me," he said, smiling. I smiled back.

"Hey, Sancho. Listen, I'm going to the base today, and I need slightly more specific directions."

He nodded. "If you follow the trail that leads out of the village, it becomes a road. That road goes to only two places- the next village and the base. The base is to the right."

That seemed to be about all I would need to know. I nodded and pulled the hood of my cloak over my head.

"Thanks, Sancho."

"Senor Ghost?"

I turned. "Hmmn?"

He fidgeted a little bit. "Please don't be seen. There will be great trouble if you are."

I grinned, I admit, a little bit cockily. "Sancho, do you know what a ninja is?"

"No…"

"Well, let me put it this way. It's impossible to see a ghost, if he doesn't want to be seen."

The "road" Sancho had described was little more than a slightly wider dirt path. It was bumpy, dangerous, and utterly primitive, winding its way through the jungle at its thinnest parts and swerving abruptly to avoid things like trees and deep ravines. I followed it from the canopy of the trees, leaping from branch to branch without causing anything to stir. The last thing I needed was to underestimate this road and have a car come rumbling by.

It was a long journey. I knew it had to be, but the trail was growing monotonous by the time I finally saw the looming chain link fence and the ugly, squat complex of the base. It wasn't very impressive; I'd seen better before. But it was still menacing, and I approached it with the utmost caution.

There were two guards standing by the front, where I assumed they'd take stock of the contents of every truck that wanted to enter the compound. I could have taken them out, but I had no intention of causing a stir. Instead, I made a circle around the place and finally found a tree that was growing close enough that I could jump over the barbed wire and land safely behind an aluminum shack that was radiating heat like an oven.

I crouched, and listened. Nothing. I moved, pressed uncomfortably close to the hot metal, and found an opening. There- darting forward, another building. Step by step, inch by inch, I made my way to what I assumed to be Command Central- a beige building with spotlights and nearly a dozen trucks parked outside, armed to the teeth with guns.

There were barrels around the back with markings on them I hadn't seen before. I climbed onto them carefully, being sure not to depress the metal so that it wouldn't make a sound. From there I jumped up, landing with a wince for the sun-baked aluminum under my feet. I thought briefly of Mikey, and could almost hear him say "_Whoa, Turtle on a Hot Tin Roof!" _

There was a skylight not too far away. I crawled, pressed nearly flat on my belly, thankful for the umpteenth time that all of us wore protective pads.

I peered into the grime, and was pleasantly surprised to find what appeared to be a meeting taking place. I thanked the Powers that Be for my good luck. No wonder the compound had been so deserted.

If I pressed just close enough, I could hear what they were discussing. I was surprised, once again, to realize that they were speaking English. Upon closer inspection, I noticed a couple faces in the crowd that didn't look very Mexican. Some of them were blonde; a couple of them looked no more than 16.

Anyway. This is what I heard:

"In a few days, we take the village. They will be the last, and after that, the fields are entirely ours. We just have to get that woman out of the way, and take the treasure her family has been hiding. We need it to clear out the area entirely."

I stiffened. They must have been talking about Sancho's mom.

"Three days from now, the village will be stilled by our own hands. After that, we have nothing more to do than reach out and take it. With the three villages under our control, we can use this area for more remote trafficking than this country has ever seen." The man doing the talking, the fat one I'd seen a few days back, laughed a disgusting, raspy laugh. As if on cue, the rest of the room followed.

I slid down. I'd seen enough. It was time to get back and warn the village.

Three days. What would they be able to pull together in three days? This compound had nothing to it except a bunch of outdated guns. And trafficking? What did the men of the village _do_ all day, anyway? And what did Sancho's Mom have to do with it all?

My belly burned. My mind was rushing. I had to get back, and warn them.

As I ran, a thought suddenly occurred to me: Never mind Sensei's medallion. It seemed like _this _was precisely what I'd been sent here to do.

_In the sewers, everything was dark. They were used to it, sure, but it had certain advantages to it that made it a prime place to practice. Splinter had ordered that they all go off in teams and play a game of the ninja version of hide-and-seek. The cards fell as they tended to, and Mike found himself wandering the dark passages with Donatello. Donnie was determined this time to one-up their older brothers, and Mike found his brother's competitive attitude infectious. _

_"Donnie," he whispered. "I don't think they're down here."_

_"How can you tell? If you're talking, you can't hear anything important."_

_Mike shut up for a while. He figured they were around 42__nd__ street by the time his brother said "Do you remember what we talked about?"_

_"Um…."_

_"Good."_

_Donnie brought out a little gizmo that Mikey couldn't put a name to. He pushed a couple of buttons and it lit up – a very faint purple. Mike snorted. It figured. _

_Don shot him a look, but turned back to his device. After a few minutes of silence, he smiled._

_"Ahh," he said, pleased. "Perfect. Mikey, get into position."_

_"What? Where the hell is 'position'?"_

_"Just do it!"_

_"Okay, okay!"_

_From around the corner, Leonardo put a finger to his mouth. Raphael paused, absolutely silent. They shared a conspiratorial grin, and Leo moved to unsheathe one of his katanas. Raph put a hand on his wrist though, and he turned, puzzled._

_He couldn't speak for fear of giving their position away, but he furrowed his brow. Raphael shook his head slowly, and pointed down the tunnel. Leo couldn't understand why he wouldn't want to win the game so easily and gloat over it later – it seemed like a very Raph thing to do. But, he lowered his arm and followed his brother. _

_When they were safely out of ear-shot, Leo turned to him._

_"Why did we leave? We could have taken them completely by surprise." _

_"There's no fun in that if we can't stalk them for a little while longer."_

_Leo shook his head. "I'll never understand you, no matter how hard I try," he said, seriously._

_Raphael looked at him, and snorted. "Nope. Besides, Donnie and Mike have got a couple of…things…to talk about."_

_Leo looked at him, but Raph only smirked in smug silence. _

_They hunched there in the sewer tunnel for a while, neither speaking. Leo found that his knees were beginning to ache, so he shifted a little bit and found himself bathed in sequential squares of moonlight. He looked up through the grate to the moon, where it just happened to be visible between the boxy cut of the skyline. Licking his lips, he sighed._

_"You know," he said softly, "sometimes I wish we could see the stars without any buildings around."_

_Raph didn't say anything. He watched his brother instead. Leonardo had been listless lately, practicing his katas without any heart. He'd stayed in his bland room more than normal, burning his damn smelly candles and meditating to boring music. None of the others found this to be unusual. Being serious and vanilla seemed to be par for the course for Leo, right? But Raphael had seen it. Raphael knew._

_There was something eating him up. They could hide a lot from their other brothers and sometimes even their father- but never, never, from each other._

_Which was why Raph was staring at him so blatantly. He wasn't going to be able to hide it for long._

_Leo jumped a little at the touch to his shoulder. He was about to turn and say something, but a strong grip was on his neck and a hot, insistent mouth was pressed firmly to his. _

_His eyes flew wide. His breath caught. He froze._

_Then slowly…agonizingly slowly…he burst into flames._

_His mouth opened, invited the other to explore. Hands came up to grip firm, muscled shoulders. Large fingers flew across his skin down to his thighs. Heat, heat at his mouth, his neck, his collarbone. Hands dancing, gripping, skimming over every free surface. He rolled his head back and gasped, and oh, God, there was the moon and the – and the-…_

_Raphael pulled back, panting just a little, not daring to smile until he saw Leonardo's dazed expression._

_"Wha…what was…?"_

_Raphael leaned closer again, nipping at Leo's neck and taking hold of his hands, bringing Leo's fingers to rest on his shoulders for support. He allowed his teeth to graze across Leo's jaw and said, low and breathy, pretty damn near a growl-_

_"Just helpin' you see stars, Leo."_

_There were warning klaxons blaring in Leonardo's mind, but Raph was kissing him again. He didn't know how to argue – his mind had shut down completely. His first instinct was to fight, but when he tensed, Raph squeezed his waist to let him know that he wasn't going anywhere. And then…_

_And then Leo let his brother lead…and Raphael knew exactly where to go._

_They went no further than fervent kisses and ghosting touches, but it was enough. _

_They gave up the game. Leo was too shaken. When Don and Mike found them, they were too gleeful about their victory to notice how silent their older brothers were. Mikey complained that Don ran their team like a military general, and Donnie ranted about the superior technology he'd created that had allowed them to follow their brothers' heat signatures. Raph grunted and made some derogatory comment. Leo didn't say a word._

_They went back to the lair, brushed their teeth, said goodnight. They went to their respective rooms and shut their respective doors. Mikey was snoring, Don's computer hummed, Raph was playing music loud enough to just barely be heard._

_Leo stayed awake long into the night, staring into his candles in his bland vanilla room. His cold eyes stared into the flame, watching it dance. It was red. He wouldn't…what would…he…_

_God, his room was full of heat, and fire, and red._

_It didn't feel so bland anymore. _


	5. Chapter 5

**The Cautious Seldom Err**

**Part 4**

"_And as a few strokes on the nose will make a puppy head shy, so a few rebuffs will make a boy shy all over. But whereas a puppy will cringe away or roll on its back, groveling, a little boy may cover his shyness with nonchalance, with bravado, or with secrecy. And once a boy has suffered rejection, he will find rejection even where it does not exist- or, worse, will draw it forth from people simply by expecting it." – _John Steinbeck,_ East of Eden._

**Leonardo**

Three days.

One Memorial-Day weekend was all this little village had left, if I couldn't come up with something and soon. It's funny how often you think you have all the time in the world before reality comes crashing down on you like a mallet. Back home we'd measure it in other ways – three days before the milk is gone, three days before American Idol comes on, three days of campaigning in the city by a politician with an image that they don't intend to keep. Three days fast, three days gone. In the rainforest, things ran differently.

My lungs were burning. I had allowed myself a cautious pace before, making sure that I was going in the right direction. Now my mind was racing and planning, trying to make connections between the loose ends that I was frustrated at myself for not catching. Gods, they were already wringing the village dry for their damn 'protection money' – what the hell else could they possibly want?

Trees flew by, scratching my face. I was heedless of it all. The sun was setting by the time I made it back to the village, clutching at a stitch in my side that I hadn't felt since I was a kid.

One day gone. One day gone already.

I had two options – I could try and sneak Sancho out behind his house again, or I could be direct about it regardless of the consequences. I could speak to an adult. The more I thought about it, the more it looked like the "Raphael" approach was going to be more effective this time around.

Irony is so frustrating.

"Excuse me…" I ventured, knocking on the thin, warped door to Sancho's little shack. This was something of a first for me – openly inviting contact with an adult human being. Kids I could handle; they would easily believe me if I told them I was made of magic and would disappear in the morning. Adults were different, and I avoided dealing with them unless it was absolutely necessary. This was most definitely going to be interesting.

The door creaked open. It was Sancho. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Ghosts don't knock, Senor," he smirked.

"This one does," I snapped, then forced myself to calm down a little when I saw the hurt in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Sancho, but I just heard something and…well…I need to talk to your mom."

"I would be most honored to do so," I heard an elegant mezzo voice say from beside me, and I jumped a little. His mother was not two feet away from me, dandling her daughter, looking completely nonplussed with a serene smile on her face. I was an incredibly well-trained ninja – how did this family manage to get the better of me, always?

I nodded my head to her in respect, and she did the same to me. Apparently, scaring this woman was not going to be one of my concerns.

"Senor Ghost," she said by way of greeting. "I am Sancho's mother, Rosemaria. You are most welcome in our home." Her smile grew. "And I thank you for saving my son."

I was at something of a loss. Being treated as an equal by humans was not something I'd been prepared to expect, but maybe my New York mentality was getting the best of me. "Thank you. I…I'm sorry to bother you so late, but I really need to talk to you."

She nodded and passed the little girl down to Sancho's waiting arms, who winked at me and went into what I assumed was the kitchen, or whatever the only other room in this little house was. "Come, Senor – do ghosts eat?" she asked, and her eyes sparkled with amusement. I couldn't help but smile back as I felt my resolve grow – I would save these remarkable people. By everything I believed in, I swore I would.

"This one does," I said again, and I heard Sancho laugh.

"So," Rosemaria said over the rim of her little earthenware cup. "They have become greedier now than ever before. It is not enough anymore to have our money. They want our land."

I watched her eyes as they stared at the table. There was something about them that bothered me. It was as if, no matter how kind and keenly intelligent they were, they were missing something. I saw them every day of my life, wandering the alleyways and frequenting the drug-dusted streets. They were hollow eyes, dead eyes; those of the raped.

_"But it's not right. People are raping – dying – here, Leo, goddammit! And whatcha gonna do about that from so fucking far away?" _

_"I can't change the world."_

_"Then don't go tryin'!" _

I swallowed, and pushed the image out of my head.

"Rosamaria…" I traced my fingers over the patterns in her hand-woven rug. "I need you to clarify some things for me." I said it as gently as I could, and sent a glance towards Sancho. At once, this quick woman knew what I meant.

"Sancho, please take your sister outside for a moment. Senor Ghost and I need a moment to speak."

He looked at me, searching my eyes as if deciding whether or not to leave me alone with his mother, then nodded and opened the door. The little girl followed, clumsily, on her hands and knees.

I lowered my gaze. "Rosemaria…It's not fair to call me that. I'm no ghost."

She chuckled. "I know that."

I found myself smirking sardonically. "Well, that's not exactly true. I'm not a ghost insofar as I'm made of flesh."

She hummed contemplatively and took a sip of her coffee. "Though not human."

"No. Does that bother you?"

"What do they call you, where you are from?"

"That…didn't really answer my question, Rosemaria."

"It should have."

I paused, then chuckled. "My name is Leonardo."

She closed her dark eyes and nodded. "Now, ask me whatever it is that you want to know."

I sat back on my ankles, thinking. "Well…why you? Why are you the only woman the army base is interested in?"

"I hold a certain position of power in this community, and they, unfortunately, know it. It is a family position, and unfortunately, grew more pressing with the death of my husband."

She said this in a distant, removed kind of way. As if she'd said it so many times that she had learned to utterly control her voice so as to not stumble or hitch on the words. Every syllable perfect and even, like speaking Japanese. I frowned.

"I am sorry to hear that. Truly."

"Thank you."

"Can I ask you what that position is?"

There was a moment of heavy silence, and then she stood. "Let me show you something, Leonardo."

I watched her go to an old box made of warped, poorly carved wood. She lifted the lid and fished around inside before pulling something up that I recognized.

"That's Sancho's medallion."

She looked at me with a strange expression on her face.

I blinked. "Isn't it…?"

She said nothing, but put it on the table in front of me. I was completely confused.

"Rosemaria, I don't understand what this has to do with-"

"Leonardo, please do me a favor." She took her hands away, and placed them in her lap. "Please…touch it."

"Uh…" I said intelligently. Looking at it again, it was even more beautiful and intriguing. The gold was of a quality that you don't find in New York, only because it was so completely imperfect. It was a rich butter yellow color, but the hammering and melting were not the smooth, reflective surfaces one would see in a mainstream jewelry store. It was flawed, uneven, yet still retained its basic shape, as if someone had done it lovingly by hand. In the middle sat a huge red gem, the likes of which I'd never seen before. It wasn't a ruby; it was darker, and seemed to glow from within.

I felt a pull on my mind as I stared into it. My vision began to go dark on the fringes. Blood, red. My hand reached out, almost of its own accord – clashing metal. Screams. I began to get dizzy.

"Rosemaria, what is…"

Connection; Confusion.

"I knew it."

Someone was screaming. It was me, and not. It was thousands of voices raised as one. Confusion, blood. Sunset, fading into a red-sky night. Someone was – who – brother!

Pain!

"… _Aaaugh!"_

Brother.

Fighting.

End.

---------

** Raphael **

If he could leave, yeah…he'd go, too.

If they could, on a sudden off chance, go anywhere in the world without being hounded or shunned, where would it be? Was there one certain country, one certain town, a gathering place for brothers sacred in this world? Or would they all have to split up to find it?

Mikey, he'd be easy. Mikey was born a California boy, though he knew the ins and outs of New York City almost as well as Raph. He sunshined all over the place, speaking in the laid-back slang of the sunburnt beach bums out west. If he were human, his summer-bleached hair would curl from being constantly wet in the surf, and he'd smile a big Santa Monica smile under red, sun-dappled cheeks. That's where he belonged – picking crabs and sneaking sips of Corona with lime on the sand, listening to someone on the boardwalk play guitar and then skateboarding down the pier. He'd scarf tofu hotdogs down in one bite to impress anyone who'd be watching, and couldn't resist kneeling down to pet every miniature dog that passed by wearing a 24- karat collar.

Raph'd like to see him like that, riding the curling waves and grinning peacefully in the sherbet shades of twilight. Yeah…yeah, that would be nice to see.

Donnie, now, he was a little bit harder. His techno-geek manifest destiny would probably take him to several countries, one right after another. He'd spend weeks in Tokyo, admiring everything from the latest household androids down to the smallest tamagotchi. His pretty dark eyes would light up as world-renowned scientists offered him their hands in partnership, showing him inventions he could never piece together with their limited resources in the Lair. He'd go to Italy, admire the architecture of ancient Rome and take a tour to see the works of his namesake. He'd visit NASA and DC, vibrating like a schoolboy next to the technological history of the great space explorers in the National Air and Space Museum. He'd have to hold his hands staunchly at their sides to resist reaching out to touch the ancient bones of the dinosaurs he'd always been so fascinated by in the Smithsonian of Natural History, and he'd smile his quiet, gentle smile as the reflections of the Hope Diamond glittered on his skin.

Donnie would never be able to get enough of learning, traveling, exploring. Raph would chuckle at him…but it would be in the soft, affectionate way.

And Leo? Well…who the hell knew. Whatever he wanted to see, he was probably doing it right now. And as much as Raph hated him for it, he certainly couldn't blame the guy. They lived in a fucking sewer.

And what _of _Raph? Where could he possibly go that would mean more to him than this?

There were any number of things he'd like to see. He'd like to go to Daytona Beach, and feel the buzz of the roaring NASCAR engines under his feet. It'd be nice to visit Spain and watch the running of the bulls, or the eternal neon night of Vegas spinning wildly around. Berlin, the market place of Marrakech, things that were bright, alive and real. Hell, he'd even appreciate a trip to fuckin' Disneyworld, just to get away from the clacking of the subway train overhead and the violence and the hatred…you know, just for one night.

But the more he thought about it, the more Raph realized: there could be no leaving New York City for him. There was no place on Earth to which he belonged more than he belonged here, crime and punishment be damned. There was nobody else, nobody that fit more in this sick, psycho city than Raphael. No matter how often he felt the walls of his world crumbling and collapsing in on him, trapping him with the noise and the lights and the sounds, he could never, ever bring himself to leave.

And every time he realized that, he hated Leonardo just a little bit more.

How dare he leave. How dare he be able to. How dare he leave Raph behind.

But the Nightwatcher didn't care. He didn't give a shit what anyone else did, so long as it wasn't hurting innocent lives. Then he'd have to open up a can of whoop-ass, and all thoughts that raced beyond the boundaries of Manhattan and Long Island dissipated in the susurrus of any given gang member's fainting breath. Then a self-satisfied smirk made its way across his face, and New York thrummed in the pulse points of his veins.

So what if he could never really leave.

The pizza was better in Brooklyn, anyway.

** Leonardo **

It was abysmally hot. So hot it choked the life from your lungs whenever you tried to breathe. I gasped, and opened my eyes. They immediately glued themselves shut with sweat.

My head throbbed. I wanted to sit up, but knew that if I did I would only fall dizzily back to the ground…so I waited.

I heard the crackling of fire, the rustle of wind through very dry leaves. Farther off was the quiet lapping of water against some unknown bank. The light that shone through my eyelids was orange - a sunset kind of glow. I drew my fingers across them and opened them slowly once more.

I was back, back at the temple from my dreams. My throat seized, and I was overcome with the sudden urge to cry.

I pushed myself up on my elbows. The dizziness was there, but the blood slowly drained from my head into the rest of me and the terrible throbbing eased. I took my time, but made it to my feet.

Turning three-sixty, I saw the rest of the city that I had not seen before. It spread out from the base of the temple like a spray of golden foam, glittering and calm and beautiful. There was no blood anywhere, just the popping of fire lamps in braziers and the reddish light of the fading sun.

"Rosemaria…?" I called out. Nothing. As I'd been prepared to expect.

I had a moment of panic as I realized that my swords were gone. My kneepads, wristbands…all were missing. I was naked without them, and immediately on my guard. To no purpose, however…the streets were empty.

Without knowing why, I turned and looked up at the temple. One-thousand steps to nowhere, climbing towards the top; steps that I'd climbed before. Trembling just slightly, I began to do it again.

I made it up without incident. My brothers were not here, and I couldn't even be sure that i I /i was really here, either. Where was "here"?

The top was as I remembered it, or at least what I'd seen in the half second before I'd noticed Raph dying on the ground. Plush colors and fabrics, stores of gold, fruits and vegetables sitting in earthenware bowls. There were carvings on the walls – ornate snake heads and monkeys, dancing and looking large and terrible. I went up to one and began to trace its curves.

"You must be the snake that destroys the world," I said to it quietly. It had nothing to say in reply.

Just then I heard footsteps coming towards me; pounding footsteps, as if someone was running. I didn't have time to discern the other pair before two little boys ran into the room, laughing and tumbling over each other as they wrestled.

"You can't do that! That's cheating!" One of them shrieked, laughing as the other boy tickled him mercilessly.

"All is fair in love and war, little brother!" cried the other one, and he smiled and went at it again.

They continued to play, completely oblivious to my presence there. I was transfixed, moving towards them without noticing it. I reached my arm out, hoping, thinking that if I could just touch this vision, I could understand how to harness it and bring it back with me. If I could only just _touch_…

But the vision faded, as visions tend to do. In its place came another one. This time, the boys were older but not by much. The taller one, lanky with dark hair and a swift smile, was watching his younger brother sleeping. The smaller one had curled up against him, tucked against his thin little chest. They radiated warmth. Tears stung my eyes, and I dashed at them in frustration.

"Someday, we'll rule this land, little brother…you'll see. It won't have to be just one of us. We'll do it together."

His little brother smiled and shifted. They faded once again.

The temple reeled. I saw vegetation grow and die, grow and die outside in the light of the rapidly passing sun and stars. When it came to a halt the boys were older, glaring at each other over a map spread across a heavy stone table. The older one wore a robe of royal blue silk and a gold medallion against his chest. The younger brother was no longer small, meeting his brother's eyes easily as he paced in linen, dyed red. His medallion was nowhere to be found.

"That isn't what father said to do," the older one snapped.

"Father doesn't run this land anymore. You do."

They held each other's gaze for a pregnant moment, before the older brother sighed and turned away. "I do it for you. You don't want this responsibility."

The Red brother's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You never gave me the opportunity to try. I can help you."

The other shook his head. "No one can help me do this. I have to face it alone." He rolled up the map, and left.

"I thought you said that we would do this together!" His brother called after him, slamming his fists onto the table. It was too late; they were both gone.

_A voice, deeper, male: "Where is your brother?"_

_Young, angry. "I don't know."_

_"Are you not always together?"_

_My thoughts, along with his; In sync, in unison:_

_"Am I my brother's keeper?" _

I was outside now, down at the base of the temple. My head reeled from the sudden vertigo, but I was too transfixed now to be distracted. There was the clanging of metal, crying of children, screaming everywhere. The village was on fire! People, everywhere, dying, dying and calling out for help. At the head of them: the Red brother, holding a golden spear – charging into battle against some unseen foe.

At the top of the temple, the Blue brother, staring after him with tears on his face. He remained frozen, watching in horror as his brother lead an army of doomed warriors to protect their people…and failed.

He screamed, the Red brother's eyes opened wide.

There was blood, blood on the steps again.

_Murderer, ten million voices whispered. Murderer, murderer… _

I'd never heard anguish quite like that before. The sound was ringing in my ears when I woke up.

----------

Rosemaria looked at me calmly. I panted and gasped for breath.

"There you are," she said, and took a sip of her drink. I looked at her strangely, and sat up.

"Rosemaria…what the hell was that all about?"

"That," she smiled gently, putting her cup down on the table. "Was a vision of the origin of the medallion. I will tell you the full story when you have rested a bit."

That sounded just fine to me. I turned on my side, curling into a ball. I could still hear the brothers screaming, each for different reasons. It lasted long after I'd closed my eyes and drifted into a, blessedly, dreamless sleep.

_ Am I my brother's keeper?_

…_Am I my brother's keeper...?_

----------------

He was sick of it. Sick of hearing it. No more.

_"Raphael, my son…you must learn to control yourself. See how Donatello uses his momentum as his weapon? You cannot rush blindly into things."_

_"Raph, it's…well, it's just a complicated procedure. You can't help me, you wouldn't get it."_

_"Nah, dude, it's not that…I'm just better than you at that game."_

_"Ugh…nevermind, you wouldn't understand."_

_"Raphael, stop."_

_"Raphael, don't."_

_"Raphael…enough." _

Enough was enough. After years of that…?

If they thought he didn't care, then they wouldn't have to see how much it really did hurt.

Harden your shell. Harden your heart.

The Nightwatcher doesn't cry.

-----------

_**Sempiternam – Leonardo **_

When he was little, Leonardo used to dream of Carnegie Hall.

It was a weird thing for him to have recurring dreams about, especially because he wasn't even musically gifted in any special way. In his dreams, though, it was always the piano he was playing. He was up on stage with the glaring white lights shining in his eyes, so much so that he couldn't even really see the audience – but he could feel them. Hundreds of thousands of eyes, all waiting anxiously for him to perform. It made the back of his young neck sweat.

He would sit down and clear his throat to buy time. He stared at the ivory keys, the sharp black ones, the golden pedals underneath that he could just barely reach if he stretched his toes. The acoustics in the room were perfect, and he could hear every impatient shift, every murmur of words.

He felt horrifically small, hunched over on that bench with everyone watching, waiting for him to produce something magnificent at the drop of a hat.

He would press down on one key, and the note would ring out with the clarity that only Carnegie Hall could provide. The audience drew in an expectant breath, the deep breath before the plunge.

But nothing happened. Leonardo, tears rolling down his eyes, got up and bowed as stiffly as he could, then exited under the pressure of all those many, many eyes.

Hamato Leonardo could not play piano. And every time he woke up from this dream that seemed like an intense character flaw.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to the darkness, fretfully turning in his blue cloud blanket. "I'm sorry, I don't know how!" Tears wet his cheeks and his pillow.

Then there were hands on his shoulders, turning him gently around out of the stuffy darkness of his bedding and into the cool air of the Lair. Soft fingers were touching his cheeks and nose. He opened his eyes, and saw a figure swimming through the film of tears.

"R-Raphie…?"

Raphael smiled, maskless, and nodded. "Hey, Leo…you were talking in your sleep. Something up?"

Leo was grateful for the fact that he would point out the talking, rather than the tears. Good old Raphie.

"I…I um…" he looked up into Raphael's dark eyes, and more tears spilled over as he began to cry in earnest. "Raphie, I can't play piano!"

Raphael blinked at him then began to laugh softly, pulling his older brother into a hug. Leo sobbed openly onto his shoulder and the little tear trails meandered down, collecting where his skin met his plastron.

"Come on, Leo, shhh…you're gonna wake the others. Hey, it's okay. None of us can play piano." The last was said with a smile that Leo could feel more than see.

"But…everyone was expecting me to. I had to do something. They all wanted me to take them away, to do something really important, and…and I bailed on them." He calmed down enough to speak with only the occasional hitching breath, glaring at his blanket in disgust. "Raphie, I was afraid. What if I can't do that when I have to? What if I can't be a good leader?"

The mystery of Leo's sudden need to be musical finally clicked to Raphael, and he breathed a soft "_Oohh…" _of understanding onto his brother's neck. "I getcha," he said, but said nothing more for a while as he rocked his eldest sibling in his arms.

When Leo's eyelids were staring to feel heavy again, Raphael spoke, his voice calm and trusting. "Leo…you're still just a kid. We all are. We're gonna screw up a lot. But…but see, Master Splinter trusts you, and well…I trust ya, too. So everything's gonna be okay. You'll be a good leader, you'll see." He pulled back just a little bit and tipped Leonardo's chin up with his finger, moving in close to kiss away his tears. Leo looked dazed and flushed, and Raphael grinned.

"'Sides, playing piano's fer sissies." That made Leonardo laugh.

They sat that way for a time, listening to their other brothers snoring or mumbling in their sleep. Raphael could feel Leonardo starting to slump from the effort of his crying, so he maneuvered them to lie back down, plastron-to-shell, in the blue cloud blankets. Leo sighed and nestled against him, smiling.

"Hey, Raphie…?"

"…Uh-huh?"

"Love you."

"Yeah." Raphael smiled against his shoulder. "I love ya, too."

And the thought rang like one perfect note played in Carnegie hall, echoing in their minds as they slept. _I love ya, too_.

-------------------

_**Actus Fidei – Raphael**_

_You've done it this time, Raph. You've really done it now. _

That was all he could think of when he'd gone to bed that night. Of how dumb he'd been to do it. He lay with his arms crossed under his head, swinging lightly in the hammock that creaked under the weight of his bulk. There had been no reason, no call for…

Oh hell yes there had. There was an excellent reason, but Raph wasn't ready to put it into words.

You kiss your brother, you go to hell. There had to be something like that in the Bible somewhere. Were they required to follow rules like that? Religion could only go so far, and Raphael was damned certain that they, his brothers and their Sensei, had _not _been created in God's image. Just how many of those human morals were they allowed to pick and choose?

Were they, in essence, human themselves? Or were they nothing but a bunch of refugees, struggling to exist just long enough to be snuffed out in the dark – a mistake that would be remedied when they completed the duration of their unknown lifespan.

Of course, not that Raphael put it that way to himself. It was more like "Not like we're s'posed to exist, so why even bother caring?"

Not even Bushido had an answer to this. Shinto, Buddhism…nothing. Nothing could give him a solid reason _why._

The thing was, he knew that what he did in the sewer that night wasn't out of a need to help his brother find beauty in their world. That was a small part of it, but the majority of it was something darker.

He did it because he wanted to control him, hurt him, pay him back in just the slightest for always being so painfully in control, so goddamned perfect. Leo would never think that of Raph; he was likely writing it off to himself right now as Raph reaching out for affection in a strange and convoluted way. Raphael was many things to Leo – manipulative wasn't one of them.

Funny how idealism tends to blind you to everything you might otherwise see.

It was a beautiful thing, knowing that he had a weapon in his arsenal against his oldest brother than none of the others could even begin to conceive of. Leo could be coaxed with polite words and requests, or by whining and loud affection, but he could be rendered _speechless _by his complex, darker brother gripping his shoulders and breathing hot against his neck. There was a dance to it, a slowly spinning give-and-take game that, if played correctly, would make him dizzy enough to knock him off his pedestal. Raphael knew that dance – he was king of it. It was more than just the physicality; it was a mental mind play of pushing and pulling, manipulating forces that were deeper than either of them. Tug on one emotion and another one falls; it was like weaving threads together and the result was a Leonardo that would not - _could _not -yield.

It was then that another Raphael took control – the one who was sick of being rejected, typecast, treated as the hothead who just couldn't understand. This Raphael had chemicals for blood that stripped him of all humanity the minute his hands met flesh.

This Raphael was ready for a day when his brothers would look at him and see more than empty eyes and muscle that simply took up dead space. This Raphael had been forged by them, and them alone.

It was sick to want it, wasn't it? To want Leonardo to look at him with those dazed, glassy eyes and call his name. To want it, not just because his blood boiled for it and he craved it, but because it gave _him _the power…and if he could use it just right? He could control his brother.

Got that? He could control. His. Brother.

There it was – he could make Leonardo love him. He could use the power that Leonardo relinquished himself to _make him love him_. No more fighting, no more words. Just heat and breath and Leonardo would need him, need him and want him and that would be all there was to it – just heat and need and want. No more fighting. No. More.

And then that would all fade…and leave him, his true self, weak and shaking in the hammock's curve. The one that was scared of what he might do, the real Raphael who hated religion, mocked morality, and got down on his knees and prayed.

He saw his brother in his mind, and he wept.

"Don't let me do this," he said out loud. And in his mind he cried,_"Don't let me be mean."_

For Jesus' sake.

Amen.


	6. Chapter 6

**WARNING: There -is- incest in this chapter. Adult language, as well. If that offends you, read only until the section labeled "Baiser". **

**The Cautious Seldom Err**

**Part 5**

When he was young, Michelangelo would cry to show that he was upset. It didn't take much, just the drop of a hat or a harsh word or two to set him off. Normally when that happened, Raphael would grow sullen, as if defiant of the fact that he'd had anything to do with it, and Leonardo would grow frustrated but try his best to reassure his baby brother with a selection from his library of platitudes. It wouldn't help; Mikey would run, bawling, until he reached their Sensei's door, bursting in on his meditation. Splinter would look up, indignant until he saw who it was. As things normally happened, there was a special set of rules and forgiveness for the Baby, and it wasn't long before Michelangelo was in his father's arms, hiccupping and hushed by his raspy voice. He was a tattletale, and knew he could get away with it by the smugness of the unquestionably spoiled. They were so used to him getting teary eyed at least once a day that they were unprepared for a time when he was honestly, truly hurt. He would grow quiet, fitful, and carry around a spoonful of peanut butter trapped firmly in his mouth.

Leonardo was at a loss. He would watch his youngest brother sitting by himself on the couch, refusing to speak to anyone lest he have to give up his spoon.

"Mikey," he'd venture softly. Mikey wouldn't reply. "Mikey, can't you take the spoon out now?"

Mikey's eyes would narrow at him and Leo would give up, leaving him to his silent protest.

His "peanut butter tantrums", as they came to be called, could only be broken by one person, and that was where Mikey always headed last.

Donnie, as a child, was lucky to have a parent who greatly encouraged his burgeoning genius. Splinter would sometimes even risk trips to the surface to find chemistry sets or models for his most brilliant son. When Mikey came in, he was almost done building a huge dinosaur, lovingly gluing his last appendage into place.

When he saw Mikey, head down, eyes up, feet shuffling and spoon clamped between his lips, he smiled exasperatedly.

"C'mere, Mikey," he beckoned. "Know what this is?" Mikey shook his head. "It's a Deinonychus Antirrhopus. Swift jumper, a huge claw for ripping flesh, fast jaws. You wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alleyway." As Don spoke, his voice grew in enthusiasm, his love for the creature plain. He stood back and let his brother get a good look at the model, which was nearly as tall as they were.

Mikey stared at it, then reached forward. Donnie seized worriedly and held his breath, but Mike was gentle and only ran his sticky finger along the creature's side.

"Cool, isn't he?" Don asked. Mikey nodded, making a sucking noise as his spoon shifted positions and clacked against his teeth. Don looked at him for a moment, then grinned.

"Michelangelo," he growled. Mikey blinked at him with confused blue eyes. "I'm a big, mean deinonychus and I'm gonna….eatcha!" He lunged, and Mikey made a surprised "Mmph!" noise, dodging as Donnie chased him around the room, fingers curled like a claw. They skidded, knocking things over and laughing until they piled onto Don's bed and Mike took the spoon out to shriek with giggles as his big brother tickled him.

When they had finally relaxed, catching their breath, Donnie touched his baby brother's flushed face and smiled.

"How's your peanut butter, Mikey?"

Mike showed him the spoon, and beamed. "Gone."

Kind of like whatever had been bothering him at the time.

"Wake up, Donnie," Michelangelo whispered into his ear.

Don jolted awake, lifting his head off the desk so fast he banged it on his lamp.

"Mikey?"

"Who else?"

"Oh…right." He sighed then stretched, turning in his chair. Mikey avoided his eyes. He looked…vague, almost too tired to sleep. Don paused mid-stretch, frowning, and reached for him.

"Hey…" he breathed softly, pressing his mouth to Mike's. His brow furrowed in worry. "Mikey, you taste like peanut butter."

Mikey looked sidelong at the floor. "I had a sandwich earlier. Let's go to bed."

Donnie didn't have the strength to argue.

Raphael, however, stood looking at the single spoon sitting in the kitchen sink long after his brothers had gone to bed.

**Leonardo**

I wasn't damp.

That in itself shouldn't have been very remarkable, but after months and months of waking up sweaty and covered in a fine sheen of dew, to wake up dry was almost jarring. I sat up slowly and peered around me, trying to remember where on earth I was and why it wasn't my cave. There was a low table and the rug I was lying on, and sunlight filtering in through cracks in shoddy walls where the dust motes drifted…oh. I rubbed my eyes. Still in Sancho's house, I surmised, but the more important question was why?

"I did not expect you to rise so early. You were very worn out last night, Leonardo."

The voice was unfamiliar, especially the way my name rolled and held on with almost an extra syllable to it. It was quiet, feminine. I turned to see Rosemaria leaning against the doorframe to the small kitchen, smiling softly at me with a cup of something in her hands and the sunlight framing her hair. She reminded me at once of the mother that I used to watch on the rooftops at night, and I smiled back, almost shyly.

"Yes…taking mind journeys can do that to a turtle." She chuckled and set the cup in front of me. I nearly melted as an intense, earthly desire pulsed through me and I let out a sigh.

"This is _ice!" _I said intelligently, and she gave a delighted laugh. I didn't care what the drink was, just that it was deliciously cold even through the earthenware cup. "Rosemaria, you really are a goddess!" I said, sniffing the mixture.

She sat down across from me, taking up her same place as the night before, and smiled. "It is nothing but some local herbal tea. We may be simple people here, but we afford our luxuries where we can. Living in the jungle, as you now know, can certainly lead one to appreciate a cold drink."

I nodded in hearty affirmation and took a sip. It rolled down my tongue and the back of my throat, and I couldn't help the content sigh that escaped on my exhale. Her eyes crinkled in amusement.

"Rosemaria," I said, now that I'd gotten that momentary lapse of character out of the way. "How is it that you and Sancho speak English so well?"

She steepled her fingers and tilted her head, her chestnut brown hair falling like water over her shoulder. "My husband spoke it. His mother was from England and came here as a missionary."

"Oh." I suppose I had been expecting a more exciting answer. "Did she help build the church in this village?"

She nodded. "The church is only a generation old, but in that time much has changed. The people here were born Christians, and it is all we know."

"Hmmn," I said, and drank again from my cup.

"Are you a Christian, Leonardo?" She asked conversationally. I faltered, then placed the cup on the table.

"No…" I said, trying to sort out my words. "My father is Japanese. We were raised on the principles of Bushido, if you know what that is, and it is as close to a religion as we come in my family. We know the principles of Shinto and Buddhism, but religion is hard to come by when you live a life like ours." She looked at me questioningly, and I could not stop my posture from slacking a bit. "It's…violent. Only when we've tried everything else but…but I have killed before. I'll kill again. It's a warrior's fact of life."

She digested this for a moment. "…There are more like you?"

I was grateful for her discretion, more than I could express. I let out the breath I had been holding. "Yes…three more. My brothers."

"Your father was a rather fruitful ghost."

I laughed. "That would be a long and complicated story. But, speaking of brothers…Rosemaria, can I ask you about what I witnessed last night?"

She smoothed a wrinkle in her dress. "I was wondering when you would ask."

I shifted, getting more comfortable on the rug. "What I saw last night…it was…it was overwhelming. I can't pretend that I'm not extremely confused, but intrigued. Was that the past I saw, or a myth?"

"It is both, depending on how you look at it."

"…Okay."

Her serious face quirked a smile. "I know that elliptical speech must be frustrating for you, but it is really quite difficult to express the feeling for a story such as that as being merely fact. When emotions are that deeply involved, history becomes legend."

I frowned at the table, then looked at her soberly. "Many died."

"Yes. That is no myth."

"Can you tell me exactly what happened?"

She nodded, and settled more comfortably on the rug. "You saw the brothers. What did they look like?"

I thought back to my hazy dreamscape journey from the night before. "Um…one was wearing blue, and had long black hair. The other's hair was shorter and more windblown, and he wore red."

"Yes. The older brother, the one wearing blue, was a Prince of an ancient culture that used to live in this region. His name was Taanil, the Mayan word 'first', for he was firstborn, and from the moment of his birth he was trained to become the next ruler of his people."

I nodded. _I could see them in my head now, the older brother with the blue fabric draping his slender frame, eyes dark and serious, smile gentle. I remembered him staring down at the map, looking intent, and the way he looked at his brother when they were sleeping._

"The younger of the two was named Ts'iikil, which means 'courage'. Because he was not to become King, he was trained instead to be a fine warrior, which suited him well. He was hot-tempered, impatient, but deeply compassionate and loyal and his brother loved him deeply because of it."

_The two of them, wrestling, laughing. The one going off to war. _

"Go on."

"They did everything together, two halves of an inseparable whole. When Taanil was too serious, Ts'iikil would be there to lighten him up, and Taanil was always quick to protect his younger brother from their father's disapproving gaze. The King was old and hardened, and having no time for softness he showed blatant favoritism to Taanil, his heir."

_Taanil, wiping away his brother's tears with his thumb. "Shhh," he whispered. "Father doesn't mean it. But it does not matter if he did or not. You did well. I, at least, am proud." Ts'iikil smiling weakly, unclenching his fist._

"As they grew up, Taanil and Ts'iikil were convinced, in their childish innocence, that they would always be that way; that nothing could come between them. Of course, by reality, they were wrong. Taanil become more engrossed in the nation's politics and needs out of responsibility, while Ts'iikil was left behind to fend for himself. He became skilled, more skilled than any warrior before with senses and intuitions far more advanced than had ever been seen. He told himself that he was training for Taanil, that he would protect his brother no matter what occurred. Heaven only knows what he was really thinking at the time."

_Ts'iikil in a courtyard, red loincloth flapping as he performed a series of moves that I soon recognized to be a different kind of kata. Sweat beading off his brow, dark hair framing his face. His brother watching him from the temple, then slowly turning away._

"For some time, Ts'iikil had felt a dark threat growing in his mind. He sought to tell his brother about it, but Taanil only waved him away with a sad smile, telling him that he worried too much. Still this did not ease his brother's mind, and Ts'iikil grew more certain of danger with every passing day."

_Ts'iikil at night, knocking on doors and whispering through the cracks. A storage room with weapons, dimly lit with only one torch. Ts'iikil surveying it, a look on his face that was half desperation, half regret, but all hard and resigned._

"He built up the army with reserves. While Taanil was busy satisfying the nobles with promises of landholdings and payments, Ts'iikil was preparing for war. They rarely saw each other, and as each became convinced that the other was wasting their time, so their bond grew taut and nearly dissolved."

_The sky, red. I knew it that way, as it had been in my dreams. Fire roaring everywhere, the sound of wood cracking and splitting, people screaming. A great deal of blood._

"The war came, Ts'iikil's premonitions turned to truth. A great warrior named Yaotl came with an army of nearly indestructible generals and laid waste to the village. Ts'iikil rallied his small army and their meager supplies and led a charge into the fray, hoping not to live but to buy enough time for their people to be free. Taanil watched, helpless from the temple's upper chamber…"

_Taanil's face, horrified, as he watched his brother charge headlong into battle. His hand reached out in futility, seeking to pull Ts'iikil back if he could, but it was no use. He was trapped._

"…as his father, the King, forced him to stay. 'If there is aught left to rule,' he told his son, 'you must be alive to rule it. Your brother is brave, but expendable. You, my son, must remain here.' He said this, before an arrow pierced his heart. Taanil was so enraged at his injustice, that his only thought was regret that it had not been him who had taken their father's life."

_Destruction, death. The village was decimated as the generals swept through it with an army the likes of which I'd never seen before. Huge, massive, deadly…they pummeled anything in their path. Ts'iikil, golden spear in hand, blood specks on his face, charging forward…Taanil, tears on his cheeks, rushing down the steps to help…_

"Taanil could not fight. He was a diplomat, not a warrior. His brother, seeing his descent, called to him to remain in the temple but Taanil would not listen. As he was distracted by the need to get his brother to safety, Ts'iikil was struck through the heart by a general's sword. He crumpled to his feet…"

…_soaked in his own blood. His eyes widened then lowered, drooping, before they shut. Taanil froze, then burst into a frenzy of motion, scrambling for his brother in the chaos of it all. He shoved people over, pushed through them like mad, his face a mask of horror._

"The battle ended. The city was lost. The generals disappeared as quickly as they had come, not interested in raiding the village until they had taken those nearby as well. There were no scouts left to send warnings, no one available to get help. Just a silent village drowning in its people's blood."

_Taanil holding his brother's head in his lap, stroking away his sweat-soaked bangs with care, shaking his head as if to deny reality. His hands stained red, the blood swiftly growing cold where it touched his skin. His brother coughing weakly, praying for an end…_

"Taanil held on to Ts'iikil as he slowly died. Taanil voiced his deep, rending guilt at not having listened to his brother's warnings, but Ts'iikil smiled at him and told him it was no matter. He'd kept him safe, either way. The last thing he said before he died was…"

"…_This is the way the world ends." I mouthed it along with him in my mind._

"And then, he was gone. Taanil was left, cradling his lifeless body as it grew stiff-"

_An inhuman sound of anguish tearing through his throat._

"He sat that way for hours, until a soldier who had managed, miraculously, to survive found him that way. Ki'imak, a young goldsmith from the village, dropped his spear at the foot of his prince and knelt before him. Taanil gazed at him, then asked quietly-"

"_- Soldier, would you perform one last duty for the city you once loved?" The soldier looking up, heart bleeding for his Prince, and nodding. Taanil standing, closing his eyes-_

"Taanil, half-crazed in grief, knew that he could not let his brother die. He would call upon their ancient gods and beg a favor to end all favors. He would give his brother immortal life. Using the rituals that every King must know, he brought power down from the heavens and changed his brother's spirit into a glowing red orb. He stared at it for a long time, then handed it to Ki'imak, saying-"

"_If this Yaotl seeks to be immortal, so too can my Ts'iikil." Ki'imak staring at the gem, then back at his Prince, saying nothing. Taanil's eyes closing one more time in pain. "Dying is too good for me now-"_

"-he whispered, then used what remained of his power to turn himself into a blue orb, trapping himself with his guilt and pain for the length of eternity."

We were silent for a while. What little I had left of my tea turned to dust in my mouth. "And," I cleared my throat and tried again. "And how do you know all of this, Rosemaria?"

She closed her eyes. "Ki'imak was my husband's ancestor. We are a long line of guardians that protect the legend of the orbs, and of the temple that still stands in the jungle – the last remnants of that ancient city."

I cast a sidelong glance at the chest in the corner. "You have the red medallion. Who has the blue one?"

Rosemaria shook her head. "I do not know. We have not known for years."

I took some time to digest all of this. "The men at the base, they tried to take the medallion from Sancho the first time I met him. Do they know of its powers?"

"No. They know only that we have a very valuable necklace, and that because my husband was leader of this village, we must be hiding more. Alejandro inherited the church's land and the land of his mother when she died, which is most of the land in this area. Its value lies in the crops that it is well-suited to grow," she said blandly, meeting my eyes with intense frankness.

"Drugs," I said, finally starting to piece the puzzle together.

"Si. Also, the caves that lie on this land can be mined for gold. We are a small village, Senor, but we sit on a great deal of wealth."

"I see," I said, and drew a finger around the rim of my cup. "And they take you because…"

"Because they wish to break me. If I am taken, captured, married or killed, they will have this land without any kind of argument."

"But we will not let that happen," said another voice, and I turned to see Sancho standing in the door. I smiled at his staunch face and posture.

"No, Sancho. We won't."

By all that was just, I would swear it.

**Donatello**

It was four thirty in the morning, two weeks to the day, when he stumbled back in.

I was still up, staring at the informercials blankly, no thoughts going through my head whatsoever. In fact, had he not sent a tower of boxes tumbling to the floor, I wouldn't have heard him come in to begin with. Clumsiness was unlike Raph, even at his worst. I turned the tv off and closed my eyes in pain.

He was leaning against the wall gasping for breath, a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead and his arm pressed to his side where it was soaked red with blood. I gasped. I knew he was beat, but I hadn't expected him to be _wounded_.

"Raph!" I cried, nearly soundless, breathless. He looked up and his hazy eyes darkened.

"Shit," he muttered and I was at his side, trying to pry his hand away. He resisted.

"What the hell happened?" I hissed, anger and concern warring in my voice.

He looked at me and visibly controlled his expression. "Nothin'."

I glared. "Bullshit."

I guess he was resigned to his fate, because he took his hand away. A stream of blood trickled down his side and leg, and I peered at it. There was something…blocking the coagulation of…

"R-Raph!" I said again, too surprised to say anything else for a moment. I reached out a hesitant finger. "Is that…is that _salt?"_

He nodded. "Yeah. Guess the punk thought it wouldn't be enough to slice the freak's meat open. Had to season him for dinner, too."

I was wordless with so many different emotions, directed at so many different people. How dare you leave, Raphael, when you know we want you here, what kind of person do you have to be, whoever sliced him, to put salt in a wound – literally? – and damn you, Leonardo, for letting this happen. Mikey, how can you be so unaware of all of this, and Master Splinter, how can you sit here and take it? Where is _my _optimism, my serenity? I dropped my hands in defeat.

"Come on," I murmured. "Let's get you cleaned up and bandaged."

He furrowed his brow at me. "Not gonna pull the Spanish Inquisition on me for once?"

I shook my head and made my way to the door. "Right now, Raphael, I really don't care to know."

I could feel him tense, like the air had been sucked from the room, and I wanted to scream at him. He was such a little kid sometimes! – hurt if you didn't care, infuriatingly curt if you did. What in the world was I supposed to _do _then?

We made it to the bathroom without dripping too much blood on the floor. One of the perks of living in a sewer – the flooring is amazingly and luckily mess-resistant. I rummaged in the cabinets for some alcohol and gauze, a few washcloths and other things I might need. I turned on the faucet and let it run to get it as cold as I possibly could. He watched me with wary eyes, as if I were preparing to dissect him instead of bandaging his wounds. It was frustrating, but I was drained. It was all I ever seemed to feel anymore.

I soaked a cloth and brought it to his face. He frowned. "Thought you needed hot water for-"

"Be quiet," I said, and ran it in gentle circles along his brow and under his eyes. He stiffened.

"Don, what the hell are you-"

"I'm washing the salt away."

"Uh…you're missing."

"Not all of it is down on your wound." His face went through a series of unidentifiable emotions, then settled on apathy. I left the cold cloth on his forehead; I knew he'd need it for the next part.

It was delicate work, cleaning a wound. How can you ever be sure that it's one-hundred percent clean? I was the closest thing we had to a doctor, and I only had minimal skills. I could clean the grime out of a machine and set it to working again, but who knew if I could do the same with my difficult little brother.

I took a heated cloth in my hand. "Ready?" I looked at him steadily.

"Sure."

I pressed it to his side. He hissed. I worked quickly, throwing chunks of gory salt into the sink and staining it red. Stealing a glance at him revealed him to have his eyes screwed shut in pain, his teeth clenched. I didn't blame him.

Alcohol next. "Ready, Raphae-"

"Just fuckin' DO it, Don!"

Ask and thou shalt receive. I poured the alcohol on, almost expecting it to steam. Immediately, his throat worked with the effort of controlling the roar I knew he wanted to let loose. Sweat streamed down his face from under the washcloth. I leaned in close.

"Who was it?" The alcohol settled. Another splash; he arched and gasped.

"Wha?" An almost-whimper, ending on a broken breath. "S-some punk. Mighta been a Purple Dragon in t-…TRAIning…ah-, _Jesus Christ,_Donnie!"

I nodded. "With what?"

His breathing was fast, eyes wild. "Knife."

"Clean?"

"Dunno."

I nodded. "I'll call April and see if she can get me a tetanus booster as soon as we're done here."

He looked at me oddly, as if surprised that I could be so calm when he was locked up, tense, on the closed toilet seat with blood stains down his leg. I finished my work, satisfied that the wound was as clean as I could make it. "Sit there. I need to get my sutures."

His eyes narrowed. "Don't say anything," I warned. "You're out of commission for a few weeks at least, or that thing is going to reopen. And on top of that, you get to explain to Master Splinter exactly _why _you have stitches and why the lair is splattered with blood."

His voice was low, dangerous. "Sure thing, Leonardo."

I clenched my teeth, then relaxed and breathed, pushing the door open with my foot as I gathered supplies in my hands. When I made it to the frame, I turned to shoot him a dry look.

"You're lucky it's me. Leo would make you sit in the corner and THINK about what you'd done."

There was silence, then sound. The low chuckle I received was, I knew, the only thanks I was likely to get. In Raphael's language it was enough. I retraced my steps to my lab, ignoring the pattern of red that still crisscrossed the foyer as I passed.

"What's the story, morning glory?" Mikey asked, leaning over the back of my chair. I let the pen clatter on the table and rubbed at the bridge of my nose.

"He got hurt."

"Uh, duh. What happened?"

I swiveled around in the chair and glanced towards the doors. All clear. "He was slashed open by some punk with a knife during a gang fight last night…and to make matters worse, the kid rubbed salt in the wound."

Mikey blinked. "What'd he do, call him names?"

"No, Mikey. I mean literally put salt on the gash. A lot of it, too."

"Whoa…" Mikey's blue eyes, clear as a summer pool, did something very peculiar. They darkened several shades and narrowed, and it was almost like I was watching every thought and emotion he was having through them like a set of tvs. Then his face relaxed and he puffed out his cheeks. "Damn Raph. He shouldn't'a gone out alone."

"I know, I tried to tell him that-"

"-He should'a taken me with him." I stared at him, flabbergasted.

"Michelangelo. You're only egging him on, and you know we're done with that kind of stuff! If you keep thinking about it, you're only going to prolong the day when you realize that enough is enough and it's time to move on!" I hadn't meant to, but my voice had risen several octaves during this rant and I was gesturing with wide, sweeping motions. Even as I said it, I realized that I, too, still wore my wrist and knee pads, as if at the ready. I guess it was more a force of habit than anything else, but I sighed and let my hands drop.

Mikey glared at me. "Hey, I remember when you used to be a dreamer, _Donatello. _Wasn't that long ago. Are you just going to let all of that die?"

"No, Mikey, I…"

"At least we can give Raph that. He's done a lot of bad things lately, but he hasn't given up hope."

I opened my mouth to reply, but Mikey was in a mood now and was already retreating into the living room. I watched his mask tails flutter behind him as he moved.

"_Donnie! What would you do if we could live above ground?"_

"_Huh? Mikey, that's a dumb question."_

"_No it's not. C'mon, answer me. I wanna know."_

"_I…um…I'd build a lab."_

"_That's still inside stuff. What if we could move around outside?"_

"_Oh. I…well, I guess I'd grow a garden. You know, for specimens. I've always wanted to play around with Mendel's schematics."_

"_Heehee…Old McDonnie had a farm, E I E I Ooooo…"_

"_Hey, you can't ask and then make fun of the answer."_

"_I'm not! I think it's a cool dream. And on this farm, he had a mechanized alien tarantula, E I E I O…"_

"_What ever happened to cows and pigs and stuff?"_

"_Dream big, Donnie. Dream big."_

**Avertissements **

It rained for weeks when the brothers were thirteen. As such, the sewers were gushing with overflow, the water washing a collection of junk and grime down the tunnels like an underground Mississippi. Muddy bubbles foamed and popped, pipes dripped, algae formed.

Michelangelo was covered in it. His brothers watched him with a mix of disgust and amusement as he flopped and splashed in it, diving and bringing up random objects to show them. Donnie would occasionally look interested and take a closer look if he found a washed-up circuit board or wires, but Leonardo and Raphael were less than enthused. They hung back, pressed against the wall of one of the tunnels that opened into the main spill, keeping an eye on Don and Mike as they played. Raphael was reading the sign bolted to the wall: _Caution, Caution. Slippery when Wet._

"This is so gross. Master Splinter is gonna kill us," Leo said, wrinkling his nose as an old woman's bra drifted past them on the current.

Raph fished it out with a stick. "Hey Mikey!" he called. His youngest brother surfaced and grinned at him. "I got somethin' for ya! Think it suits ya real well!" He flipped the stick and Mikey caught the garment with a delighted peal of laughter.

"Dude, it's not my cup size! I've totally grown a whole one since yesterday!"

Don rolled his eyes and Raph settled back down, chuckling. Leonardo sent him a sidelong glance and a smile, proud of his difficult brother for playing along for once instead of complaining.

"Mikey sure looks happy," Raph murmured, intent on the flow of water around his ankles.

Leonardo blinked at him. "Duh. He loves when we get to go out and just mess around."

"Maybe if we weren't training all the time," he muttered, and Leo raised an eyeridge.

"What was that?"

"Nothin'. Look, this is great and all but…"

"'But'…?"

Raph shifted his weight. "Um, promise not to laugh."

"What? Okay, I promise."

"Swear it."

"Raphael, _what?"_

"I um…have a bad feeling about this."

Leo looked at him curiously, then a wide grin split his face. "What? Raph, that's ridiculous. This is safe, and if one of us gets in trouble, the other three are here. You worry too much."

Raphael glared at him. "Look who's talkin'." Leo spread his hands out, a gesture that said 'okay, that was fair'.

"Besides, we'll go back soon. Just give Mikey some time to burn off more steam."

Raph said nothing, but leaned back against the wall of the tunnel and watched his baby brother with hooded eyes.

The first thing he complained about was headache, but that was so common for Mikey that no one paid him any mind. Telling Sensei that he didn't want to train because his stomach hurt was unremarkable, as well. It wasn't until he stopped eating altogether that the family began to grow worried.

"Mikey, don't you want some of this pizza? It's your favorite, we can't eat it all by ourselves," Leo coaxed, but Mikey shook his head slowly.

"No thanks…m'not hungry."

That sentence froze them all, and Donnie pushed away from the table to go feel his brother's forehead. His eyes flew open. "Mikey, you're burning up!" he said, shocked at how warm he was to the touch. Mikey nodded weakly.

"Yep."

Leo stood and knelt next to him, touching his cheek with the back of his hand. "Whoa, you weren't kidding. Mikey, you should go lay down." Again, Mikey nodded his consent. He stood, and made it to the archway of the kitchen before collapsing, but he didn't hit the ground. Raphael was beside him in an instant, the chair clattering to the floor, and caught him as he fell. He grunted then hoisted his nearly unconscious brother in his arms, carrying him into the hallway.

Master Splinter looked up from the television and exclaimed worriedly. "My sons! What has happened to Michelangelo?"

"Dunno, Sensei," Raph said with some effort, shifting Mikey's deadweight in his arms. "He's got a fever, and he just passed out."

Their father rushed over to them, helping Raphael with his burden as they made their way to Mikey's room – thankfully the only one on the ground level. They placed him softly in his bed and Mikey stirred just a little.

"Hot," he complained. Raphael frowned and touched his cheek.

"We know, Mikey…Donnie'll fix it."

"Coming through!" Donnie called, bustling in with a medical book that was nearly as big as he was and frayed at the edges. He spread it out on the bed next to him and ruffled the pages, seeking a certain letter in the index.

"Mikey?" he asked, all business until Mikey winced at his voice. He gentled it, and looked at him with sympathy. "Mikey, can you tell me what hurts?"

Mike looked around the room as if he didn't know where the voice was coming from. "M…'chucks on fire," he said mournfully. "Tell Mass…Master Spn'tr…my 'chucks are on fire!" Donnie frowned.

"He's delirious," he said, irrelevantly. It was plain to anyone watching. From his belt he pulled out a thermometer, taken and sterilized from a hospital dumpster. He pushed the little button and waited for it to blink then placed it under Mikey's tongue. Mike was surprisingly compliant, and held it there between his lips without fuss.

"Must be all the peanut butter," Raph murmured. Leo frowned slightly and looked at him.

The thermometer beeped. Mikey gazed up at Don as he pulled it out, then licked his lips. "Hot," he said again.

"Good grief, no wonder!" Don flipped the thermometer around to show his brothers and father. "His fever is nearly at the top of the scale – 104 degrees!"

"What?" They cried, almost simultaneously. Master Splinter recovered first, eyebrows knitting together.

"My son, what does this mean?"

Donnie pursed his lips, then frowned. "It means he's in a dangerous position, Master Splinter. We've got to figure out what this is and bring that fever down. I," here he paused and looked at them a bit apologetically. "I'm going to need you to leave. I can't think with everyone hovering."

Leo moved, hustling Raph out the door. "It's okay, Donnie. Whatever helps. Just…figure this out, okay?"

Splinter put a wrapped, furry hand on his genius son's head. "Donatello always does."

Don blew out his breath and closed his eyes. "I sure hope you're right, Sensei."

"He got borborygmi in his chest and-"

"He's got _what?"_

"Stomach rumbling."

"Well, duh, Donnie. He hasn't eaten in days."

Don shook his head. "Uh-uh. I mean, this is a symptom of something else. I checked under his arms and on his collarbone and sure enough, he's got these faint discolored patches. Paler, and almost brown."

Leo blinked, growing exasperated. "What does that mean?"

"In humans, they would be pink. In us…well, there you go. It means, and I have to take a blood sample to be sure, but it means that he might have typhoid."

They all sat there in silence. Don hurried on, "But it's rarely fatal. I'll just…well, I'm just going to need some supplies."

The collective breath in the room was exhaled. Master Splinter nodded. "One of you must stay here with him, and the other two will come with me to collect these supplies. We go early in the morning, when most at the hospital will be asleep."

Leo had been frowning in the corner, and spoke. "Don…how did he get this? Is it airborne?"

Don shifted. "Well, actually, it's kind of gross so I won't go into detail, but my best guess is that he got it when we were playing in the spillwell a few weeks back."

Raphael's face went through a series of movements before settling into a deep frown, like a flower wilting in fast forward. This didn't go unnoticed by his oldest brother, who could find nothing to say.

_Caution, caution. Slippery when wet._

If it was treatable, Donnie could do it. That's what they told themselves in the days that followed. One hospital run later and Donnie had what he'd requested. All that was left to do would be to wait quietly in the corner while their brother performed miracles.

For the most part, Raphael was nowhere to be found. He liked to keep it that way.

Leonardo kept to his room, meditating. The scent of jasmine and incense filled the air, the flicker of a single candle the only light. Even the soothing sounds of ancient Japanese music couldn't dull the thrumming of his mind - _should have listened, could have listened, leader material indeed. Should have listened, could have listened… _

He could have listened to Raphael. He'd warned him, hadn't he? Had it truly been necessary to blow him off, to treat him with such disdain? Had it truly been necessary to let Mikey swim in the first place?

Rhetorical questions that had no answers. He sighed and leaned back against the wall, perfect posture all but shot. He was too tired for it now. Failures were allowed to slouch.

It was in this position that he awoke, the candle doused and the air stuffy with lingering smoke. Raphael was kneeling over him, trying to lift him enough to put a pillow behind his head. Leo shifted and blinked at him.

"M'sorry," he murmured sleepily. Raph looked up at him then back down, concentrating on his task at hand. "M'sorry, Raph."

"Save it, Fearless."

"Don't _call _me that!" Leo said hotly, shoving against Raph's plastron..

"What, afraid you made a mistake?" Raph sneered "Too good to listen to your hothead little brother now, I guess. I could say 'I told you so' till the day I die, and it would still feel good." As he spoke, his actions betrayed his real thoughts – they sought Leo in the darkness and hoisted him up, half-dragging him to his futon in the corner.

Leo said nothing, the weight of his guilt pooling with the bile in his stomach. "What if the hospital hadn't had the right vaccines? What if Mikey had died? It would have been all my fault."

Raph grunted as he let Leo down, flexing his shoulders to get them loose again. "What if there hadn't been ooze, or what if Master Splinter never learned ninjitsu? 'What if' questions are dumb, Leo. You let 'em eat you up, sooner or later you're gonna be a what-if yourself."

Leo glared at him. "You don't make any sense."

Raph grew quiet, sullen. "Keep telling yourself that the next time I try to warn you."

His stomach churned and Leo looked up at him, gaze softening swiftly and becoming pleading. Raph paused, then deflated.

"I want to be mad at you…but I'm just worried for Mikey." Leonardo nodded in understanding. "Maybe we should go sit with him tonight."

"Donnie said not to until he vaccinates us, too. Mikey's contagious now, but we don't know how much vaccine he'll need." Raphael listened, but didn't hear.

"Bet Mikey'd like a bedtime story or something."

"Raph, he's delirious."

"Or his panda. He should have his panda."

Leo was about to protest again but was struck at once by the compassion his standoffish little brother was showing. He hadn't even known that Mikey still had that panda.

"Well…okay, Raph. Let's go get his panda."

It took all of their skills as growing young ninja to sneak it out of the living room from under Master Splinter's nose and into Mikey's room, where Donnie was set up like a sentry. He had slumped over in his chair long before, snoring softly and looking rather uncomfortable. Raph grinned and jerked a thumb at him, and Leo nodded, smiling. Mikey was curled up in the bed, sweating bullets and murmuring.

No words were spoken. Raph, being the strongest, managed to lift Donnie up and cover him in the blankets that'd been strewn onto the floor. Leo took the panda and tucked it into the crook of Mikey's arm. Mikey shifted, curling himself around the bear and sighing happily. It made Leo's smile deepen in affection.

They snuck back out and made it to Leo's room without incident. Once inside, they shared a conspiratorial grin.

"If we get sick, Donnie'll kill us twice."

"We won't get sick."

Raph frowned suddenly. "You said nothing bad would happen at the spillwell, too."

Leo threw his hands up in exasperation. "I screwed up, I know, Raph! You can chide me for it all you want, what I tell myself will be much worse in the end."

Raphael paused, knowing this to be true. "Hey," he said, willing to change the subject. "You made a good mommy."

Leo glared at him. "Very funny. You did just as well. I saw you tuck Donnie's corners under."

"You adjusted the panda so it'd give Mikey a _hug!" _

They both steamed, eyes narrowed at each other, before each realized that the other was right and, simultaneously, they laughed.

"Want me to tuck you in too, Raphie?"

"Pfeh, no thanks. I'm a big kid now. Tie my own shoes and everything."

Leo's face relaxed into a warm smile. "We don't wear shoes."

"Shut up and go to sleep."

It was unspoken – tonight they would sleep in the same bed. It sometimes seemed that, for those living their lives by polarity, silence was all that was needed. They curled around each other, taking comfort in their collective warmth. Dreams and breath all intermingled into one.

_Caution, caution. _

_Slippery when wet. _

**Etoiles **

_The landscape around me was barren and dry (I dreamt) and the sky was purple. It contrasted with the orange sand dunes I was sliding down, sending up clouds that made my eyes sting and my throat tighten. From the shield of my hand's shadow I peered at the horizon as the huge sun set in the shimmering air, deepening the strange twilight and giving way to a handful of stars._

_I stared up at them in almost-awe, taking in their sweep, their patterns. I thought to myself – somehow, I almost know how I feel. I have a burgeoning self inside me; it originates with these stars. _

_Because I was sleeping, it made perfect sense: Find the source of them, and I would find the source of my being. _

_I began to walk- sometimes skidding, sometimes falling, but always moving forward as the night grew blacker. As I looked at the sky, I started to see more and more stars pouring forth, as if spilling out in a spray from one singular point far off in the distance. I furrowed my brow, and moved on._

_As I walked I passed Donatello, who was digging a little hole in the sand. He reached up and plucked one perfect star from the sky, smiled gently at it as only Donnie could do, and covered it up until its light no longer shone. _

_I looked at him curiously. "Hey, Donnie…why would you hide a light like that?"_

_His smile turned sad. "Because…one day we just might need it in an emergency."_

"_Oh."_

_I continued walking while the fountain of stars grew larger. They seemed to be originating from just beyond the horizon, so I turned east and followed their path. _

_On the way, I found Michelangelo, ripping stars from the sky and devouring them hungrily. His skin and plastron were beginning to glow from within. I clucked my tongue at his eating manners in disapproval, but couldn't help but ask – _

"_Won't that hurt you, Mikey?"_

_He looked up at me and his eyes were serious, and flat. "Hey, you do what you gotta do when it's all you've got left."_

_I moved on. The last shred of purple light disappeared and the sky went a dark navy blue. The sand that had been burning my feet became pleasantly warm, though the skin on them was starting to dry and stretch in the arches. I cleared a rise and looked down into a cleft between two dunes, finding Master Splinter frantically digging a hole where the sand was darker with moisture. By the time he reached the bottom, he had broken ground and a pool the size of a coin was visible in the middle of the massive crater. He drew in a deep breath and slid a sandy wrist across his sweating brow. From his sleeve he drew an acorn, which he dropped into the pathetic collection of water. _

_I peered down at the acorn and then at Master Splinter. _

_"Sensei, that…that's not going to grow."_

_Master Splinter smiled wearily. "I will water it with my eyes."_

_I stood and dusted sand from my knees and climbed the other rise, heading still for the fountain of stars. _

_I walked for an hour or more before I reached a ring of dunes that lead down into a little makeshift valley. It was brighter here, the close concentration of stars slowly rising up into the dark above. At their absolute apex stood Raphael, looking deeply engrossed in what he was doing, maskless and intense. He had one of his sai, sharpened to a lethal point, which he was using to poke holes in the sky. They were nothing but pinpoints of light before they stretched and grew, wheeling upwards to join the others in the night. They cast strange shadows on his frame. _

_All thoughts of the beauty he was creating were ripped from my mind. I watched him, confused and almost indignant that he would be so blatantly destructive. Would he really manipulate nature that way, and hope for the best? _

_"Raphael, why are you doing this?"_

_He turned and regarded me blankly, then stared at the sai in his hand._

_"It seemed like a good idea at the time." _

**Baiser**

It had been a lonely trek back to my cave after the warmth of Rosemaria's home. It was as if you'd been thirsty for a long time, and are offered a small sip of water – it would almost be better if you didn't take it, because the thirst that comes afterwards is tripled in size. You now know what you've been missing, and ignorance is bliss.

I was still swimming in a dream-fog, watching the stars through the small hole in the ceiling where natural light could filter in. My fire had all but died hours ago, reduced to softly smoldering embers and soot. Botticelli was tucked into his hole near the back, shuffling his feet in an agitated dream. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to keep me awake.

But awake I remained. I stared at those stars as if they were life-giving. _Originating from a single point_, I thought. The source of my being at the source of those stars…

Was that really it? Was it true that I had no worth outside of him? I came out here to be my own person, to say how _I _would react to watching the stars…and as I was slowly learning the answer, I almost didn't want to know.

_No,_my mind rebelled. _This isn't it. Leonardo, there's more than this._

The hands ghosting down my sides begged to differ. For the first time in almost a year, I let myself think of him. I _indulged _myself in it, and let the sick waves I'd been familiar with wash over me once more. It was like drowning in a very dark sea, warm and all encompassing, but deadly.

My hands ceased to be my hands. They grew stronger, firmer, seeking my attention.

_Do it, _I whispered in my mind. _Go ahead and do it, if you like. I won't tell, I swear. _

_Do it, _He'd said to me. _I won't tell, I swear._

Would have been better if he had. I could have been punished by Master Splinter, maybe even kicked out. I could have dealt with the looks my brothers gave me, with their "Raph, why do you do things we can't understand?" attitudes. Would'a been a hell of a lot easier to deal with than my own mind screaming _You're such a sick fuck, man. A really sick fuck._

Actually, that was kind of nonchalant-sounding for the way it was raging at me now. Injured, broken, the gash in my side still screaming at me in pain – bedridden was the worst thing I could be. Trapped on this thing with nothing to do but think of him. If I were out and about, if I were the Nightwatcher, I could let this energy go on some deserving punks. I could help the neighborhood with my twisted anger. Now it was just brewing in me, and I couldn't stop it if I tried.

Hands down my sides, ghosting up. They felt like him, not me.

"_Is this what you want, Raph?" It was like he was asking if this, what we were doing, would fix me, change me. _

_Do I want it? Fuck yes I do._

_But what kind of monster does that make me for asking? What does it make him for being willing to comply?_

Drowning in it now, I was drowning in that damnable sea. I choked, crying for air, but it was too busy escaping me with my gasping. Hands on the bottom of my shell now, stroking, teasing. They were his, not mine. I made sounds in my throat that I didn't know I could, arching in my shell and rolling to the side. The fire warmed my face and made it hotter than the flush there already did. Reality blurred, there was water in my eyes.

I felt his tongue on my neck and curled my shoulder closer to trap it. Felt his hands sliding down my plastron and the faint feeling that came through the weak nerves there. Felt them dip underneath at the bottom and the absolute silence that followed because my face was caught in a silent scream.

My split side was getting hotter, and I could only hope I wasn't gonna bust it open again. Donnie'd have a fit, but Donnie couldn't see me now. I was too wrapped up in _him. _I smelled patchouli, lotus, myrrh - all of his incense that normally clung to his skin. I could smell it as easily as I could feel the hands that cupped my face, the tongue that kissed me with building passion. It wasn't just me, right? He wanted it, too?

That would have made it okay. If we were doing it like this, at least we'd be sick together. We'd go swimming in our mutual insanity. It was as easy as breathing, as fighting, as drowning.

That's what it was – it was drowning. It was sinking down into something you couldn't help. Intoxicating, filling…his fingers running up my length, mine in his mouth to stifle his cries. A thrumming, pulsing heat that pounded in all of my veins, like the drumming of the slave master – push on, row on. You can't turn back now.

Kissing him was like drinking liquid fire – it burned all the way down and felt delicious in my stomach. I smelled the lingering traces of sweat and resin on his skin, knew he'd been working out earlier. It made me want him more – he'd probably been trying to work _this_ out of his system. But here he was, with me.

I settled on top of him and prepared myself. His fingers inside me were thick, hot, nearly painful – but I wanted that pain. Had to have it. Had to make me realize this was real. I whimpered, and some of the liquid in my eyes slid down my face from squeezing them shut for so long. His touch was fervent, but almost gentle. It reassured me, and I took a deep breath before –

Oh, _hell, _there weren't words for this – for this slick, tight heat and the flames that erupted in you when it happened. It was one big, fucking conflagration inside me and it took over everything I did. I lost all sense of myself to the pinpoint of raging heat between my legs, and I think he did the same because he started panting so forcefully his chest rattled. With every breath he pounded himself down, and I arched up to meet him, and we crashed together like opposite waves in that sick, dark sea. Fire and water, fire and water, burning, burning, and oh, _fuck yes…_

I was thrusting down on him with all of my energy. There were no words, none for the feeling of being utterly filled, invaded. It was painful, perfect, so deliciously wrong. It was an entrance that shouldn't be breached and here we were, throwing all rules and propriety to the wind. To hell with them all, this wasn't even about making him feel better any more. I would give my body to him if I thought it would help, and that's exactly what I was doing, but it had turned into something more. Some primal need to satisfy every broken look or hurt word we'd ever shared. Something that had been building from the moment we were born and discovered that we were each other's polar opposites. This needed to happen, was meant to happen, it was so disgustingly _wrong…_but it felt…it felt…

I wasn't gonna be able to take much more. My whole body was taut, rigid with running fire all through my blood. I was a ticking time bomb counting down, and his movements were getting sporadic. I looked up at him and saw his eyes squeezed shut. He was gorgeous. I gripped his thighs, urging him to look at me even as another shockwave pulsed through my system. He did, and his eyes were glassy and frantic.

"M'gonna…not gonna be'able ta…"

He understood. "Go ahead."

Like he was still giving permission. I couldn't have that. Anger flashed in my eyelids and in one swift movement I had him pinned on his shell.

_"Won't take orders from you now,"_ he'd growled. I moaned but said nothing as he redoubled his efforts, gritting his teeth to keep from coming. My body was open to him now, utterly. I could not be more base than this, my legs spread and panting for him. He wrapped his thick hand around me and pulled, jerked with a force so tight I knew that this was his punching grip. I made a strangled noise, couldn't help it, bucked into him, up, so much pounding, tight, something coiling in me like a spring waiting to be released…

"God, RAPH!" I cried to the jungle, shattering the stillness. Tight, pressure, heat –

"Leo," I muttered, biting my lips till they bled to keep back the animalistic noise ripping through me as I crashed. Hips rolling, bucking upwards, not a split second later and oh, FUCK, I was gonna – was gonna –

The waves crashed. There was a burst of red light, flames licking me from the inside out -and I came, spilling erratically into the stone floor. I was left weak, shuddering, staring up with tears in my eyes at the stars.

The source of all of me. He really, truly was.

"Leo," I whispered again weakly, without even realizing I'd done it. My hands were sticky, my body was sticky, and if Don was going to ask questions, I'd tell him it was a nightmare.

Wasn't that far off, was it? He hated me for it now, anyway. He could be out there forgotten or dead, my older brother, and I was here…doing this…thinking of him.

I wiped my hands off on a rag, and turned on my side –the one that burned. The pain felt good to me, in a distant, removed way. I closed my eyes and let out a shuddery breath.

"I'm sorry, big brother," I said to no one but the stillness of my room.

My mind answered: _You're a sick fuck, Raphael. You are one sick fuck. _


	7. Chapter 7

**The Cautious Seldom Err**

**Part 6**

**Leonardo**

It had rained this morning and that was absolutely perfect.

Today would be my now-or-never day, my day going to the base, and I would need all the help from mother nature that I could get. I stood, strapping my katanas to my shell and stretching my numb limbs into readiness. I'd been meditating for the past few hours, preparing myself for anything. In that time Botticelli had come and gone and I was left utterly alone.

But it didn't matter. I was full of hardened resolve and knew what had to be done.

Time for me to drop in on my good friends at the base.

The trip there was quicker than it had been before, likely because I had mapped it so carefully on journey number one. I moved through the trees, jumping lightly between branches, the wind making my burlap cloak flap noiselessly. I peered down at the ground, watching for anything unusual, and after nearly twenty minutes of this, I found it.

Fresh tire tracks, marking the mud below. I dropped down and bent to examine them; they were no more than an hour old, heading _away _from the base. It would be wise to keep that in mind.

Other than that, I made it to the base with no problems. It still sat, squat and ugly at the foot of a small mountain. The searchlights were going on as the sun set, casting an eerie shadow of the barbed wire on the ground. I hid deep in the low-growing scrub bushes at the border of the jungle, and observed.

There were patrols – two men with guns crunching across the gravel at the gate. They weren't terribly aware, or they would have heard the third coming around the corner. He barked orders at them, and they both jumped. The one who (I guessed) was of a higher rank had a moustache, and it quivered as he spoke to them both hurriedly in Spanish. I caught the tail end – "_Ándale, vamanos!" _and one of them took off running into the main complex.

Well. Now or never. I spared a thought for my bright little brother. Donatello would have had this plotted out to the minutest, intricate detail instead of doing some of it blindly and relying on last-minute skills as I was. But Donnie wasn't here and I had a village to save. It was going to be me and my skills – no other.

It was the first mission on which I'd gone solo. I'd never felt so keenly alone. Then I saw Sancho and his little sister in my mind, steeled my nerve, and ran.

I was swift, silent, making it to the same place I'd gotten in before by ducking behind cars and metal box units, and into the patrolmans' blind spots. The tree I'd used to jump over the fence last time was still there, so I took advantage of it again. The long shadows aided me as I landed, pressing myself up against the shed, still warm from the sun.

It looked to be about a thirty yard straight dash to the compound I needed, and shorter if I used the rooftops. But while the sky was rapidly dipping into twilight, I didn't have time to sit around and wait for darkness naturally. I fished around in my belt and felt the cool steel with relief. The sight, familiar weight in my hand was welcome.

But short-lived. I threw the kunai with perfect aim, and listened to the confused shouts of the guards when one of their big lights fizzled and went out.

Crack, thoom. Crack, thoom. Two more down and the sound of their power being lost was audible. More shouts, more men scrambling to find the cause. While they ran towards the lights, I leaped onto the nearest rooftop and ran, putting all of my skills of agility and speed to the test. It was absolutely necessary that they not see me…and they didn't. So far, luck was on my side.

_"__Hay alguien aquí!"_

I smirked. Damn right there was. And he was about to unleash hell.

There- the compound! I landed on the rooftop and kicked at the skylight until it gave, falling to the floor and shattering. Then, I reached, dug, found a match and put it to the oil-soaked branch I'd prepared and strapped to my side. Immediately, it burst into flames.

I let it fall, and didn't risk waiting to see if I had succeeded.

I ran. One second. Two. Heartbeats and sweatbeads. Then the world was on fire.

People screamed hoarsely, scrambling to get out of the building as it gushed fire and a shimmery greenish gas. I saw an arm fly past, then a gory mess that might have been a leg. I covered my mouth as I ran through a vein of the gas, then dropped to the ground. The men who had come running skidded to a horrified stop.

"_El Chupacabre!"_one of them cried. I laughed, raspy and dark.

"That's me alright," I said as I unsheathed my swords. "Your friendly neighborhood goat sucker."

A few of them turned and fled. I let them. If their loyalty to the base only stretched so far, then they deserved to live. The ones that snarled and brought their guns up to aim, I attacked.

Until then, I'd had reason working for me. As soon as my katana bit into a man's arm and relieved him of his gun, I lost it.

Red – like the medallion, like _him -_filled me, my vision, and I charged. I was full of inflamed justice, rage, and a burning need to see that none of these men _ever came near my village again!_

Slice – an arm! Thwack – a leg! Screams of pain and agony, fiery, caramel eyes! Wetness splashed against my cheek, was this what it was like? Was this _rage?_

Everywhere: the base in flames. People running, either away or towards me and I faced them: a whirling fury of blades.

I left none who opposed me standing. Whether they crumpled from a blow to the head or as I cut their lives short, they fell. I was mad – flying! Roars from my throat!

How dare they threaten something I meant to protect! How dare they! How dare…how dare _life! _I was Leonardo, infallible, and I _would not be undone! _Not by him! Not by _anyone!_

I made it out, burnt and bleeding as the compound exploded one last time, spewing smoke, fumes, debris. I ran to the jungle, shaking, panting, ignoring the screams I could still hear. Around me, the thirsty brush leapt into flames as if it had been waiting for a reason to burn. It wouldn't reach the jungle itself – it had soaked up this morning's rain like a sponge and was too moist yet. So I retreated back into the shadows, blood on my hands.

Strike fast. Strike hard. Then disappear.

While the trip to the base took less time than before, the trip back took an age. I stumbled, staggered, and generally used less caution than I should have. I was also favoring a slightly swollen ankle and I'd definitely pulled something in my shoulder. I was sooty, sore, but overall in good shape for a (in retrospect) poorly planned solo mission like that. But, I'd gotten the job done. I'd destroyed the gas, totaled the base and…

…and murdered half it's occupants. Master Splinter had once told me and me alone that one day taking a life would be an inevitability. I had nodded, but I hadn't believed him. Surely, there must always be a choice.

Me and my ideas.

Usually there was – but not always. Sometimes there was just nothing else you could do. I remembered my first kill with startling clarity. It was a foot ninja, and he'd been heading for Donnie. I had just enough time to run over, but not enough to block. I was at the wrong angle for it. It was the only time in my life I'd regretted having katanas instead of some other weapon. They just wouldn't…there was no way…

My blade slid in, and I was sick with the squelch of it. Donnie had whirled, eyes wide. We both stood there, silent, for a split-second…then it was back to the heat of the battle.

When we'd won, my two youngest brothers were high-fiving, joking about the ninja butt they'd kicked…but Donnie and I were quiet. He had his hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently, as we both stared at the only body on the ground that would never come to.

"Leo…" he'd said.

"Hey," I'd murmured, "it had to happen sooner or later."

His eyes had looked pained. He knew as well as I did how I felt about Master Splinter's inevitability theory.

"Take them home, Don," I'd said quietly and had – thank god for my gentle brother- met with no objections. Raph and Mikey had looked confused as Donnie led them away, and I heard Raph sneer "It's a perfect ninja thing."

Once they'd gone, I removed the mask of the man I'd killed and felt tears sting my eyes when I saw him. He was only a kid – my age, or a few years younger. He was Japanese too, so likely one of Karai's more traditionally honorable breed. He looked a lot like I'd figured I would look had I been human. I chewed my lip, looking at him one last time before I put the mask back on and with all the honor and dignity I had in me, I bowed.

He had been my enemy…but he had also been a ninja.

And now here I was, years later, and I had just slaughtered who knows how many in the spirit of justice, in the fury of rage.

And as they always tended to do in my darker moments, my thoughts turned to Raphael.

_Oh little brother, _my heart cried_,is this what you deal with every single day?_

My footsteps grew heavy, and there was a brief span of time where I was even too sick to walk.

It was in this way that I heard the voices from the village and turned to go there instead of my cold, damp cave. The village was unnaturally quiet, except for the crude sound of harsh laughter and the rattling of an engine. I furrowed my brow, leaping into a tree over the main square to figure out what could possibly be going on, and then sucked in an angry breath.

The fat leader of the base was threatening a small crowd – what I assumed to be the majority of the entire village. At his back, three henchman. At his front, a defiant Rosemaria.

"We thank you for your _generous donation," _he said, with a double entendre – that raping son of a bitch! – to Rosemaria, "for the continued protection of your village. After all," he bit into a slice of apple, spitting it as he talked, "the jungle can be a very dangerous place."

Here he reached forward and snatched – dammit,_yes- _the red medallion from Rosemaria's neck. He and his henchmen laughed, turning back to their truck which I then noticed was stuffed to the brim with goods, all stolen no doubt.

"Mama!" Sancho cried, running into her arms. They both coughed as the truck belched smoke, clanking down the pathway to the jungle.

I'd seen enough.

I raced ahead, able to move in front of them by traveling as the crow flies through the trees, and found just the thing I needed: a log, fallen days ago in the rain.

I worked quickly, pushing, rolling, using my rope lasso to tug it into place, effectively blocking their road. Just in time, too, because they came crashing through the underbrush just as I made it behind the log itself.

"_Idiota! _Watch where you're going!" the fat one snarled at his companion.

"Th-there's a log on the road, Senor." His meek little driver pointed.

"Well, if you're not too busy…remove it! Cortez, _andale!" _

A beefy man climbed from the back of the truck and came towards me with a chain. As soon as he threw it over the log, I grabbed his hand and pulled. He flew over the log and I knocked him out with a well-placed blow to his head.

I wasted no time. Into the next tree I leaped, and immediately threw down a lasso to the next guy and hauled him up, too. His gun went off a few times, but dropped. I did the same to him as his buddy and propped him against the tree.

The smaller of the two fled, but not before he gave me the same nickname that Sancho had. I jumped down, landed in a bush, and waited.

"Show yourself! Do you realize who you're dealing with?"

I was more than happy to oblige. He mumbled something else before turning to meet my eyes, yelling and falling down a small hill, scrambling for his machete.

"I'm not afraid of a myth," he cried in challenge. "I'm not afraid of a ghost!"

_You should be, _I thought, and dropped down in front of him. I pulled my katana free and watched with dark pleasure as his eyes widened.

"What _are _you…?" he whispered, before we lunged. This time, the squelch and the cry didn't bother me at all.

I stood over him with one foot on his bloody chest and bent to retrieve Rosemaria's red medallion.

"I'm the Ghost of the Jungle, you bastard," I spat, then left.

It was morning when I finally made it back, pushing the dead truck into the village. Rosemaria stood, shocked, then hugged her son. I dropped the medallion where Sancho would see it and he did, stooping to pick it up before he turned his gaze upwards and we met eyes.

"The Ghost of the Jungle," he whispered, and I nodded to him slightly before I disappeared.

That was my name now. Senor Ghost. The only name fitting for the creature I'd become today.

The Thing that Ceased to Live.

"_Hey, Leo…"_

"_Go to sleep, Raphael."_

"_Can't."_

"_We have to get up early tomorrow."_

"_You weren't asleep, either."_

"…_What do you want?" _

"_You 'member when we were kids, and we filled Master Splinter's teapot with bubbles?"_

"_Of course I do. He made us wash dishes for a week."_

"_Heh…yeah, but it was fun, wasn't it?"_

"_I guess. Why?"_

"…_Just thinkin'. Was nice back when we didn't hate each other, y'know?"_

"_Raphael…I could never hate you."_

"_Night, Leo."_

"_Raph, don't-"_

"_Goodnight."_

It took until afternoon of that day for Rosemaria to stumble into the part of the jungle I'd begun to think of as my own. She was tousled, frantic, not at all the confident woman I remembered. She had broken through a series of vines and collapsed, coughing and panting for air not ten feet from the hole in the ceiling of my cave. I heard the commotion as I was poking at my cook fire with a stick, a habit I'd picked up in my time there. Disturbed, I grabbed a vine and started to climb.

"Leonardo…_Senor el Fantasma……_"

I hurried my ascent considerably.

By the time I reached her, tears were rolling down the dirt on her cheeks and her breath was quietly hitching. I placed my hand on her back and startled her. She made a strangled noise, then flung herself into my arms. Taken rather aback, I rubbed her arms before pushing her away so I could look into her face.

"Rosemaria…what are you doing here? How did you find me? What's the matter?"

She shook her head, obviously dismissing the first two questions as unimportant. "Leonardo, Sancho is sick. I need your help."

Immediately I was on my feet. "Come on. Take me to him."

She backtracked from where she came from, following the path of broken branches and squashed plants. I used my sword to cut more of the brush away and make our journey swifter. As we pressed forward she told me her story in broken sentences, some of it in Spanish that I imagine came from her distress.

"The village…it was attacked. Not by men, but a bomb. The huts are on fire and everywhere the air is thick with gas and it is difficult to breathe. The villagers fled to the church, but there are a few soldiers keeping them locked there. Sancho…he...when he heard that the village was on fire, he went back to our hut to recover an item of his father's…a knife. Gilded. An heirloom…" she trailed off, looking disoriented. We quickened our pace, reduced to silence by the effort of moving through the jungle. After a time, she continued. "He must have inhaled some of the gas, because he…when he returned to the church, he was not responding. Violent convulsions. The guards will not let us out to find medicine, and we have nothing that would treat something like this anyway. Senor…there is blood…"

She didn't speak again. By now, we were practically running.

We came upon the village from the back. As she said, huts were on fire everywhere and the air was cloying. I let my breathing go as shallow as I could, and Rosemaria pulled her dress over her nose. We crept behind the huts doing the best we could to avoid the burning wreckage. I frowned.

Men from the base, no doubt. But…I had taken care of that. There was no more gas. It had all been destroyed.

Hadn't it?

We darted through an alleyway and wound up behind the huts closest to the church. I spotted something that made me frown and swerved away from Rosemaria, tracking it to the right. Kneeling, I pressed my finger to the marks in the mud and my eyes went wide.

Tire tracks….identical to the ones leaving the base. I'd forgotten it after my mission.

I hadn't taken care of anything at all. Everything…the killing, the planning, irrelevant.

Because I hadn't remembered this, the minutest detail.

My heart clenched and my fist began to shake. Steeling my mind, I tried to focus on the here and now and ran after Rosemaria who had snuck around to the back of the church. Hands there had lowered a rope to her, and she began to climb. Arms emerged from the window to pull her in. A few seconds passed and her face appeared, beckoning me up. I looked at the flimsy rope, and instead scrabbled up the wall using footholds I found in the rocks.

When I pulled myself through the window, I heard a collective gasp. I lifted my head to peer into the dimly lit faces of nearly thirty pairs of haunted eyes. I bowed my head to them, hoping that they would see that I meant no harm, and pushed through them to where Rosemaria knelt. Sancho was on the floor there, vibrating.

The pain in my heart intensified. The edges of my vision blurred.

"Sancho…" I said, but he, of course, did not reply. I got to my knees next to Rosemaria and held out a hand to touch him but hesitated. Who knew what that might do to him? I felt so helpless without Donnie, or even Master Splinter now. What did I know about disease? Something – panic? – fluttered in my heart.

"Rosemaria…I…I don't know what to do. What help can I be?"

She looked up at me with eyes that were almost dead. "You are here because you are the one who _can_ help. More than any of our medicines could."

I shook my head. "I know next to nothing about treating internal disease."

She peered at my strangely. "You are chosen. You do not have to know. You only have to succeed, and feel, and restore."

"I…what?" I gestured with my hands. "Rosemaria, look at me. I'm _real_! I'm not a real ghost! I don't know what to do! I can do the best I can, but I can't perform miracles!"

There was a weight in my hands suddenly. I looked down to see the medallion nestled there, burning with an internal fire. I glanced up at her swiftly. She nodded her head towards it.

"The medallion was meant to be found by you. You fused with it the night you first came to my house. I knew the moment I looked into your eyes, but it was confirmed by the astral journey you took within the medallion, to the past. That is why you are here. It was meant to be found by you, and it _has_ been…but now is your time to _use_ it."

I looked down at the fragile, writhing child on the dirty floor… my feisty little friend.

"Rosemaria…I'm here because my father sent me here. For training."

She frowned at me fiercely. "Stop listening with your mind, Leonardo. The medallion has been dormant for generations. It burns at this moment because _you _hold it. The spirit of Ts'iikil is within you now. Leonardo, you reek of blood. What did you do today?"

I closed my eyes. "Slaughtered many."

"Is this a normal action for you?"

"…Not hardly."

"Were you conscious in it?"

"…Sometimes."

"Then you are fused. The medallions demand to be, as well. You must take this red one to the temple in the heart of the jungle and fix that which was shattered."

I spluttered, and stood. "Rosemaria, that's…that's some fantasy movie hocus-pocus _nonsense!_ You need a doctor, not a legend!"

She stood, too, and I suddenly realized that we were on eye level with each other and that her gaze was ten times fiercer than mine.

"My son needs the power that only you can bring! Do you step down from a challenge when others are depending on you because it is unlikely, or difficult? _You must do this, or my son will die!"_

The silence lengthened. The villagers watched, no doubt stunned into a kind of stupefied freeze. With effort I took in a deep breath, then slumped.

"…What do I do?" I whispered, staring at the floor.

She relaxed, but her face was still stern. "Go to the temple. Heal old wounds. It will be clear when you arrive…and with what power you gain, come heal my son."

I met eyes with her. The anger was gone, replaced by nothing but helpless, mute pleading. I nodded, and placed the medallion around my neck.

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

As I ran into the jungle, the smoke from the flames rose higher, nearly obscuring the sun.

**Splinter**

All creatures are born into this world with a thread inside of them which links them to a previous life. For some, their souls are new and they are just beginning to unravel their ball of yarn. For others, this life is just another arduous journey in a long line of similar stops. This sort of person you may tell apart by their eyes. My Master Yoshi's wife, Tang Shen, was one of them. It did not matter what she was looking at; always she had the serenity of ages of wisdom smiling outwardly from her eyes.

Being an "old soul", as they call it, does not automatically make one wise. It does, however, enhance one's ability to be in touch with one's emotions. Through this comes a type of wisdom that cannot be gained, or earned. It is only felt, and adapted. The secret to understanding oneself is the ability to read others unequivocally. It is a knowledge born of heart, the highest knowledge there is.

Of my sons, only one is an old soul…and he is not my eldest.

Leonardo has the gift of being intelligent. Not bright and logical like his brother Donatello, but the intelligence of a leader. He learns swiftly and has the discipline of a master. These talents combine to form an exterior of what appears to be wisdom, but is really the result of a lifetime of unwavering dedication. He is a natural born leader, and deserves the title fully…but that does not make him heart-wise: only well-trained.

No, it is his younger brother, Raphael, of whom I speak. Raphael is my old soul, my rough and difficult son, who feels most passionately of all of us the hate and suffering of the world above.

I have known this about Raphael since he was but a small child. He did not follow the rules of other children in displaying his emotions, and this was my first clue. Leonardo had a tendency to become frustrated with his younger brothers when they did not pick up a lesson as naturally as he did. Michelangelo, as the youngest, would cry and hide the cause with a peculiar habit of eating peanut butter. Even endlessly patient Donatello would begin to wail if a toy he was dismantling failed to be pieced back together.

Raphael had no cause that could ruffle him, personally. He was always helpful, dutiful, loyal…until one of his brothers began to show extremes of emotion. If Leonardo chastised him for something, he would pick up on this energy and turn his feelings swiftly to anger. If Donatello praised him for writing his letters correctly, his eyes nearly glowed with pleasure. Waves of affection radiated off of him as heat when Michelangelo would nestle near him at night as they all fell asleep in a heap. His emotions he defined by his brothers. He felt as they felt, cried as they cried, always taking in and expressing in extremes that which his brothers could not. He was an amplifier for all that they dared not show.

That is why he has always played the role of "protector" in our family. If one cares so deeply for others that they became a reflection and the tangible representation of his heart, he is bound to protect them in order to protect himself. Raphael _is _his brothers, in one body. Should one of them die he would be emotionally crippled henceforth, as though losing a lung, a brain, an eye. Damaged, wounded, incomplete.

His eyes are the color of amber, a very clear and passionate gold. When he was a small child, everything he was feeling was written in those eyes as easily as a reflection on glass. He wore his heart on his sleeve as the saying goes, and in the end he paid the price for it, dearly.

Too many times have I watched them together, my eldest and second-youngest. Always on opposite sides, yet inexplicably drawn together. Theirs is a story that cannot be understood, only lived. Leonardo, as a young adult, would so often criticize Raphael for something he could not help. He would accuse him of being lazy, of blowing things off. It was painful to watch how those amber eyes would blaze and then settle, as though the flood of words Raphael released were but the embers of a conflagration so much larger than he let on. It was the fire of hurt, of that I am certain.

After years of this fighting, his eyes are no longer clear. They have gone dull, opaque, as honey does when it is spun. No one can say for certain these days just what our strong, ardent fighter is feeling under his thick skin and dead eyes. His words are curt, clipped, as if sparing them takes away small pieces of himself as he does. The less said, the better.

And Leonardo…? Who can say how he feels. I sent him on this journey to mend that which was broken nearly a year before, on the night that I saw him leave Raphael's room looking haunted and ashamed, and Raphael emerge hours later with bite marks on his shoulder and tears glistening in his eyes. To one so old as me, it was all clear in an instant.

I could not be upset. When you have two halves of the same soul living, separated, under one roof…they are bound to attempt to conjoin once more. It was not preventable. Their experiences together were an ill-fated inevitability.

So much of a ninja's life is based on chance, and the wit to do with it what one will. I was foolish to expect things to work out for the better if left alone. I waited, perhaps, too long…my own wits dimmed by the crippling emotion that is a father's love.

Now my son is in a dangerous jungle, fighting to understand the part of himself that is shrouded in darkness and frustration, and my emotionally ancient son is roaming the streets at night. I know not where he goes, or what he hopes to find when he gets there. I know only that neither will be complete until they realize that what they are looking for is not outside in the great, wide world…but within them. And within each other.

I am very old. I lived long as a rat before I was mutated, and my natural lifespan is spent. I am existing for them, for my sons are young yet and I fear that my death would now drive an irreparable wedge between them. I wait, quietly, for a time when I might see them together as they were long ago, on a day when I pass silently from this world to the next where my Master and his beloved wife await.

In my heart though, I doubt. I see Donatello's exhausted eyes, the glitter lost from my happy Michelangelo. I see little of Raphael. And night after night I burn my candles low, waiting for the shadow to fall across my door telling me that my eldest has come home.

My sons are fractured. Raphael is nearly shattered. I write slowly with great care the kanji on rice paper that float through my head…

_Brother. Peace. Trust._

_Emotions. _

_Conquest._

_Love. _

I have burned many candles now.


	8. Chapter 8

**The Cautious Seldom Err**

**Part 7**

_**Timshel – part 1 **_

_My old gentlemen felt that these words were very important too—'Thou shalt' and 'Do thou.' And this was the gold from our mining: 'Thou mayest.' 'Thou mayest rule over sin'…Don't you see? The American Standard translation orders men to triumph over sin, and you can call sin ignorance. The King James translation makes a promise in 'Thou shalt,' meaning that men will surely triumph over sin. But the Hebrew word, the word timshel—'Thou mayest'— that gives a choice. It might be the most important word in the world. That says the way is open… For if 'Thou mayest'—it is also true that 'Thou mayest not'…Now, there are many millions in their sects and churches who feel the order, 'Do thou,' and throw their weight into obedience. And there are millions more who feel predestination in 'Thou shalt.' Nothing they may do can interfere with what will be. But 'Thou mayest'! Why, that makes a man great, that gives him stature with the gods, for in his weakness and his filth and his murder of his brother he has still the great choice. __**He can choose his course and fight it through and win**__."- _John Steinbeck_, East of Eden_

**Leonardo**

The Temple was supremely well hidden in many ways, but in one it was painfully obvious; it sat on the highest point in the Jungle, and was thus visible to anything able to surmount the canopy, but the actual entrance to the stairs took me a long time to find. I'd basically just headed in the general direction I knew the temple to be, and had set about scouting the area looking for any kind of carving or switch. Frustrated after nearly an hour of this, I reached up to yank a vine down, thinking that I might be able to get there by jumping from and climbing the trees. The vine I grasped was thick and resistant. With growing irritation I gave it a hard tug, and was extremely startled when a huge stone door, thickly encrusted with lichens and thus indistinguishable from the rest of the jungle, groaned open. I shook my head at nothing; this was all just too much.

The corridor I stepped into was dark – impenetrably dark, the kind that suffocates. The air felt clammy and old, as if this door had sealed in a part of history that had been released as a gust as soon as I had disturbed it. It wasn't like I hadn't come prepared, though. I had a torch tucked into the side of my belt, and I used the flint I carried to spark it into life. The burst of warmth illuminated the walls and a few pathetic feet in front of me but little else. I felt like I was in a vacuum, devoid of any kind of life except for the scattered clicking of insect exoskeletons. I moved on.

I feel I must have walked that hallway for the better part of a year, but who can judge time in a place like that? I knew that my feet were aching and my arm was sore from holding the torch aloft as the light it cast slowly began to dip down, dwindling its fuel. To my left, I heard a sound that immediately shot my adrenaline into the roof: the hiss of a snake. Not just one, but several. My heart began to thud painfully against my ribcage and I swallowed, taking a few deep breaths. That didn't help, so I quickened my pace.

You'd think that, after living in close quarters below ground all my life, I'd be used to airless spaces and the noises of the unseen. But in New York I had a pretty good idea of what was crawling the walls beside me. This was new territory, and I was jarred. I sped up, jogging until the torch flickered from the wind. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying, hoping that it would at least stay lit till I found a cavern, or the stairs or…or something, anything!

_You're a ninja, _my mind screamed at me. _What is wrong with you? Put it out, Leonardo. Stop doing this the human way._

I slowed, panting. The torch danced a few more times, dipped into a low blue, then went out.

I could hear my own breath, but little else – all noises had stilled. Blood pounded in my veins, and I shook.

One breath. Two. My heart beat, slowed.

Three breaths. Four. My pupils, dilated. Shadows taking form.

Five breaths. My breathing, regulated.

Seven.

I was calm.

I opened my eyes, took a deep breath through my nose, and let it out. I could smell water. I was close.

"You're finally here, Leonardo," a voice said to my left.

I whirled, but could see nothing. My foot slipped and I lost my balance, tumbling backwards and expecting to hit the wall. Instead, I felt my stomach drop as I began to free fall…

"Uff." My breath escaped me in an audible huff as I landed on my plastron, grunting as all of my organs seemed to slam into the front of me and then resettle. I took a few moments to be stunned, gathering my breath before I pushed up on the ground with shaky arms. I blinked and lifted my gaze, then felt my throat go dry.

I was on a white marble dais, surrounded everywhere by similar ones on which perfectly circular pools of blue water were gathered and spilling over the sides in faultless arcs. Bright white light filtered down from something above me that I could only peer at, for risk of being blinded.

I was dumbfounded. Wasn't this…an old temple? Wasn't I just in a long, dark corridor?

Hadn't someone just said my name?

"That would be correct."

I whirled as best I could on my shell, bracing myself on my elbows and looking down my plastron to see Botticelli looking at me plaintively. I frowned at him.

"How'd you get here, boy?" I asked, furrowing my brow and looking around. "And who said that?"

"I did." Disbelievingly, I watched Botticelli's mouth work and it took me another half-second to realize that _he was speaking. _

"Whoa!" I cried, scrambling and crab walking backwards until my right hand hit the bottom of a pool. I heard him chuckle and jerked my gaze back up from the water to him, opening my mouth and closing it when nothing came out.

"I've been watching you for some time, obviously. Is it really so hard for you of all people to come to terms with a talking animal, Leonardo?"

There were still no words. I cleared my throat. "I…uh…"

Again that rich chuckle, making Botticelli's nose crinkle and sway. "Perhaps you'd be more comfortable with a form you are more familiar with." As soon as the sentence died, a blue light burnt my eyes and made them tear. When I opened them again, I met with another shock.

"You…Taanil!"

The ancient prince smiled kindly at me, his black hair rippling around clear blue eyes - eyes that I realized belatedly that I could see _through. _

I swallowed. "Are you…?"

"Dead? Yes. Well, insofar as you think of it. My body ceased to be a long time ago." He waved a hand dismissively. "My soul, however, remains…trapped. But you knew that." He took a few steps towards me and I looked up at him, more than a little bit awed. He…he was _shimmering. _It was all just...

"Overwhelming?" He supplied helpfully, then laughed when my eyes flew open.

"You can read my _mind, _too?" I spluttered, indignant.

"More or less. I can read your feelings and impulses, not your thoughts verbatim. I made a logical guess. I have had many years of practice." Taanil knelt next to me, placing a hand on my kneepad. No warmth radiated from him, and I don't know why that surprised me. My eyes met his, and our gazes held. I relaxed.

He nodded and smiled. "Much better. I took the form of the creature you called 'Botticelli' so that I could bide my time before bringing you here. You weren't ready…but I can see now that you are."

"I…" something in his sentence snagged. "Ready for what?"

"Your trials." His voice, at once, sounded grimmer. "You've come for the medallion, have you not?"

"…Yes."

"Have you it's twin?"

I fished in the pocket of my belt and drew out the heavy thing on its chain. I held it up for him to see. His expression changed, slid into fear, anger, and then a deep and solemn remorse. I'd never seen a sadness so penetrating before, and my heart ached for him.

"You are holding my little brother in your hands, you know."

I looked down and touched the red gem softly.

"I…am familiar with that feeling, Prince Taanil," I said on a weary sigh. "Believe me."

The smile was back in his eyes. "I do."

We shared a brief moment of now-companionable silence, before I heard him draw in a deep breath. "Leonardo, I'm afraid I must ask you to stand."

I did so. "Why do you sound so resigned?" I asked, confused.

The look in his transparent eyes was unreadable. "I have been waiting here for three-thousand years, hoping – waiting – for someone to come and claim the medallion and set my brother and I free. I am ready to end this torment…" His gaze flicked up to me and held. "I believe you are the one I have waited for, but you, like those few who have tried before you, must pass the tests."

I rubbed my temples. "Of course I do."

"Beg pardon?"

"Nothing, Prince Taanil, my apologies. Did you set these tests up when you became…what you are?"

He shook his head, and his glittering hair swung in a slow-motion arc around his jaw. "No. They are set up by forces beyond me, those who allowed me the power to keep my brother's soul in the first place. It was a mechanism for safekeeping…but also a punishment." He looked down.

My brow wrinkled. "For what? Why, after all of your suffering, would you be punished further?"

Something about the lost look in his eyes struck a chord deep within me, and I immediately felt a pulse of energy surge through us both. It was emptiness without others, but the pain of being forever divided from the ones you loved best. It was the shared remorse of an older brother: of _Frére Aineé,_ _Onii-san, _of _Hermano Mayor_, and it made my eyes fill.

His voice, echoing, was hollow. "I suffer for my selfishness. When my brother was alive I took him for granted, always thinking that I could spend time with him the next day or the next…but when the next day came and he was slaughtered…well," He looked up at me, his eyes beseeching. "I made the selfish choice to spend time with him forever. I kept his soul from being freed because I could not bear to go on existing without him. It is a fault for which I have dearly paid. Can you understand that Leonardo?"

I stared back at him, unflinching. "Unquestionably."

He stood there a moment longer, his non-existent fingertips hovering over the medallion's surface, before he drew his hand back and sighed.

"It is time."

The ground began to rumble and shake, pebbles skittering into the pools of water or over the edge into nothingness. I reached back for the hilt of my sword as Taanil's voice grew louder.

"You will face seven trials. If you survive, you will claim the medallion. If you fail, your cycle of rebirth will end and your soul will cease to be. It is time to claim your destiny and purge your soul, Leonardo."

I swung around, looking for him wildly, but he was gone. I backed up to the edge of a pool, prepared to fight whatever was coming. My foot slid back into the water and I looked down at it instinctively. The reflection shocked me.

"_What?_ Raph, how-"

A hand grabbed my foot, and water filled my lungs.

**First Terrace – The Proud**

I slowly blinked my way back into consciousness, but as soon as I had I found this to have been unwise. Immediately, all air escaped me as I was forced into the dirt by some enormous weight on my back. I tried to reach around and push it off, but my arms swung at empty air. I gasped for breath, bits of dirt sticking to my dry lips.

With great effort I managed to crawl forward a few feet. With another I stood, but no amount of straining would let me straighten up. Sweat rolled down my forehead and I grit my teeth.

"What is this?" I gasped out to no one.

"It is an awful chore, carrying around dead weight all of one's life…is it not?"

I struggled to turn my head to the side. "Prince Taanil…glad you could join me."

He clucked his tongue in what appeared to be disapproval. "Sarcasm will get you nowhere in these tests, Leonardo. You must open your heart and mind to betterment."

I was feeling lightheaded and my back was screaming at me from being unable to straighten up. "Forgive me if I'm less than," The weight shifted and I gasped, "enthusiastic. What is this place?"

He looked up, and it was then that I noticed hundreds of others like me, bent at the middle and moaning.

"This is where you will realize your mistakes."

I closed my eyes in pain. "I do that every single day."

"This will be one of the last."

My inner breathing quieted. "I am ready."

"Good. Leonardo, look down."

I did. Below me, where there had been dirt, there now lay a floor of glass. I peered into it, watching my reflection but moving past it to see further below. There was a mass of glowing turquoise, shapes forming and then disbanding, swirling below the surface.

My back throbbed. "What am I looking for?"

"You will know."

I looked harder. A bead of sweat trickled down from the top of my head to my neck. As soon as it met my plastron, I saw it. The mists took form and I stood, incredulous, as I watched a scene I remembered all too well…

_The kata Leonardo had been perfecting was just that – nearly perfect. Nearly had never been enough, however, and as he slid into the final form his ankle turned just enough to set him off balance. He wobbled and fell, catching himself on his elbow as his brothers all laughed. _

_"Whoa, Leo! You really want us to follow –that- fancy footwork?"_

_"Yeah, I bet Master Splinter would love to see that you've combined ninjitsu with dancing. Maybe it could be a new form of kabuki."_

_Leonardo, ten years old, on the ground – hurt, glaring. "Stop that. It was a mistake."_

_Michelangelo's eyes glittering, his smile wide. "I know! That's what makes it so great, bro!" _

_Donatello giggled. "It's nice to know now and then that our Big, Brave Brother is mortal like the rest of us, too." He extended an arm down to help Leonardo up, but Leo smacked it away._

_"Keep practicing," he snapped. "I'll be back in a minute, and there will be no room for mistakes."_

_His brothers laughed behind him as he left – all except for Raphael, who was not smiling at all. His sober, serious eyes followed Leo as he left the dojo and stormed up to his room. _

_That was where Raphael found him as Leo rubbed his throbbing ankle. His movements were precise, the bandage he was wrapping perfectly snug. Raphael cleared his throat. _

_Leo glared up at him. "You're supposed to be downstairs practicing."_

_"I know. But…hey, Leo, listen…they didn't mean anything by it. They're just jealous cuz you never screw up an' we all do, you know?"_

"_Shut up, Raphie."_

"_So don't sweat it. I mean, everyone makes mista-"_

_Raphael was pinned to the wall before he knew what hit him. Leo stared hard into his eyes, the hand at his brother's throat keeping him still._

_"Go practice, Raphael. I said I'd been down in a minute."_

_His brother's burnt caramel eyes were wounded, betrayed. "I was just trying ta-"_

_"I SAID go PRACTICE!" Leonardo barked, then released him. His ten year old's voice has cracked as it grew louder. He breathed swiftly in frustration. _

_The two brothers stared at each other, panting, before Raphael snorted._

_"Fine then. Screw you, Leo." His footsteps pounded back downstairs to the dojo. Leonardo was left in his room, words he'd never voice echoing in his head:_

_I will not make mistakes. I am the Leader. I am Big Brother. _

_And most importantly…_

_I'm better than you._

I came back to the here and now with a swift gasp. The pain on my back intensified and I fell to my knees.

"I didn't mean it."

Prince Taanil bent closer to me, fingers that I couldn't feel smoothing over my forehead. "Yes, Leonardo. You did. You still do."

I looked inside myself and cringed. While I did feel guilt and remorse at the way I'd treated Raph…the Prince was right. My pride wouldn't let me admit that I could make mistakes, not in front of them! I was…above that. I was…

"Better?" Taanil supplied gently.

I bowed my head.

"Yes."

Immediately, the weight from my back lifted. I looked up, confused. The Prince was smiling at me. He reached forward and touched my forehead. I felt a brief burning and looked down at myself in the glass.

The letter P lit up my forehead, then dimmed and died.

"Congratulations, Leonardo. You've swallowed your pride."

I felt a peculiar rush of sensations – relief, confusion, accomplishment, guilt – before the scenery changed and my vision went black.

**Second Terrace – The Envious **

I could see nothing. I tried to blink but found that my eyelids wouldn't even move. Immediately, I started to panic.

"Calm down, Leonardo. You will not be harmed."

I grunted and rubbed at my face, finding my eyelids to be _sewn shut. _

"Prince Taanil!" I cried out helplessly.

"I am right here. Be still. Use your other senses instead."

I did. I could smell hay, hear the fluttering of wings, the guttural noises of very large birds. I shook my head.

"Where am I?"

"It doesn't matter. Why are you here?"

"I don't know!" I felt trapped, helpless. This was nothing like the blind exercises I'd been doing in the forest –at least then I'd had the _option _of opening my eyes if I needed to- and I bitterly envied Prince Taanil his omniscience, his ability to see.

I heard the smile in his voice when he said "Good."

"Now relax," he said gently, "and try to focus."

I did, and felt myself growing dizzy. "What-?"

"Relax."

After a few moments of listening to my own breathing, I began to see. Not in the traditional sense, but in my mind. And somehow, that was clearer.

_Leonardo, five years old, watching his three brothers on the rug playing with cars while he knelt at the table with his Master, learning to read and write. _

_Leonardo, 12, watching Donatello gently take the spoon from Mikey's mouth, and feeling a pang in his gut when Mikey smiled. _

_Leonardo, 2, watching Raphael cry and being gently shushed by their Sensei. _

_Leonardo, 15, leading their first charge against the Shredder, not a part of the whispering going on behind him as they crept through the sewers._

_Leonardo, at all ages, watching his three brothers riding their skateboards and bikes through the sewers while he collected supplies. _

_Always the Leader. Always alone. _

"They always had it so good. They never woke up and realized what it took to be Leader for them, the kind of perfection it takes to be Big Brother…"

Prince Taanil's voice sounded far away. "Keep watching."

"They tease me about it, but I do it for them. I'm a leader for them, and because of it, I was always the farthest apart…"

_Raphael, 3, watching Leonardo paint calligraphy on rice paper; trying to duplicate it with his messy hands in his finger paint. Crying when it came out a blob. _

_Donatello, 9, wanting to show Leonardo the plans for a heating system he'd drawn up; wanting to say 'Look, Big Brother…I can help take care of us, too,' but shying away at the last minute._

_Michelangelo, 12, keeping his eyes trained on Leonardo as he practiced his flips on the half-pipe; screaming, pleading with his eyes for Big Brother to turn this way, to watch him and applaud. Stopping his skateboard, and leaving the room so Leonardo would have some peace._

_Raphael, 15, watching Leonardo's katas with hooded eyes – the perfect form, the grace; gritting his teeth and walking away. _

"They were jealous?" I said quietly. "…Of me?"

_All three of his brothers, giggling quietly at the table then shushing each other; Leonardo was trying to study. Their eyes as they all watched him appreciatively, then turned back to their game. _

"I was alone. I was always the outcast! I was always so _jealous _of their carefree lives. _God, _I wanted to play, but I couldn't! I had to train…for them. It was for them, when all I wanted was to _be _with them!"

My eyelids flew open. I blinked in the bright light filtering in through cracks in the barn walls, looked up to see a circle of birds of prey watching me from the rafters. Prince Taanil was smiling at me.

That strange burning sensation on my forehead was back, then I slumped back and exhaustedly closed my eyes on my own.

**Michelangelo**

Raph's been sleeping a lot lately; It's no secret. Donnie's been _not-_sleeping about as much as Raph _has. _

Me? I'm caught somewhere in the middle. I'm the cream filling between two very opposite cookies. It's kind of like being a buffer…you know, like Don'll say something that pisses Raph off, and Raph'll come after him and there I am in the middle, like the flapper sending the pinball off somewhere else to avoid a collision. That's what I do these days. I prevent stuff.

For example. I was at a party today doing my thing for a little girl who's daddy worked at the stock exchange. Her name was Missy, and she was turning six. We went through the whole thing, cake, candles, presents, etc. There were about twelve kids there, all running and laughing and having a good time. Or, I mean, so it appeared to StockDaddy on his Blackberry, debating the DOW while keeping one obligatory eye on his daughter. Really what was happening was this: The kids were having a blast. All of them but Missy. She kept sending these big, sad eyes to her Dad that he never caught. I don't even think she knew the kids there very well. They were probably the spawn of Daddy's clients that he invited as a two-birds-with-one-stone deal: It was great PR, and it filled up the kid quota for little Missy's party.

When the kids had gone, earlier than expected, I still had one hour left that had been paid for. I sat down next to Missy and got out my rubber nunchaku.

"Wanna see a trick, Missy?"

She looked up at me and gave me the saddest smile I've ever seen on a kid.

"S'okay, Carl. No one else is here to see it. Just me."

I shrugged. "I know! It's a special birthday trick just for you. That's why I saved it till now."

Now she looked intrigued. "What kind of trick?"

I kicked my legs out and cracked my knuckles. "An awesome one. Do I know any other kind?"

"I guess not. Is it another ninja trick?"

"Nope."

"Another balloon animal?"

"Guess again."

Now she looked suspicious. "What?"

I made a big show of loosening my shoulders, stretching my legs out. "Ready?" I asked in between stretches. "Yeah?" She'd reply, then I'd stretch more before asking "Really really ready?"

"Yes!"

"Good!" Then I launched at her, tickling her all over. She shrieked, then collapsed helplessly into giggles, rolling around on the floor.

"Beg for mercy, or there shall be none!"

She laughed harder. "Beg! Mercy!"

I stopped and sat back on my heels, grinning. "I made'ja laugh. S'a pretty neat trick, huh?"

She paused to stand up and right her dress (expensive; probably from Macy's) and rearrange her bouncy blonde curls. Then she smiled at me. "Yeah. Pretty neat."

The rest of the hour I spent telling her jokes and putting little pieces of frosting on her nose for her to try and lick off. When the time came for me to leave she was red-faced and happy.

"Do you have to go, Carl?"

I ruffled her curls again, just to hear her laugh one more time. "Sure do. Remember, when I'm not making kids happy, I'm fighting for ninjustice!"

She looked down, then back up at me. When she did, it was with a real, warm smile. "Thanks for being here. Come back next year, okay?"

I didn't know what else to say, so I bowed. "No hordes of ninjas could keep me away from thee, Fair Lady!"

And that was that. I had a wad of cash in my hand, a piece of cake wrapped in tinfoil in my bag, and a kind of empty feeling in my gut. I knew that, no matter how hard I'd tried to prevent Missy's birthday party from sucking, she'd walk back into that lonely apartment and have an awkward dinner with her distant Daddy. That was my problem, you see. I could always prevent things. But that never really made them better.

It persisted when I went home, looking pensive and thoughtful. Donnie was in the kitchen, clattering pots and pans. I found him muttering into a cookbook, a stern frown on his face as he tapped a soup spoon against the counter. I peered over his shoulder.

"Stir fry, huh?"

He jumped a mile, I swear. "Mikey! Jeez, warn a turtle, will ya?"

I grinned a little. "Heh, sorry. You're so jumpy, it's too easy. By the way, you need a wok, not a crock-pot."

He looked dazed "What? Oh…"

I shook my head. "Stop. Let me help."

"Mikey, that really isn't necessary."

"Unless you want to order pizza again, which I have no problem with by the way, you'd better let me try."

His smile was kind as he leaned back against the counter, watching me pull out ingredients. "I'm so proud of you."

I looked up, munching on a carrot. "Why?" I asked, with my mouth still mostly full.

"You're growing up. Becoming responsibility-minded, taking part in supporting the family…" his gaze darkened. "Unlike some people."

I sighed and plugged the wok in. "Donnie, I don't want to hear it tonight."

He looked surprised. "What happened?"

As I washed the veggies in the sink I shook my head. "Nothin'. I just don't want to talk about Raph."

"It's not like he's ever here to hear us-"

"Donnie! Seriously dude, stop! I get enough of dysfunctional families day in and day out. I don't want to fill up my free time with another one!" The glare I shot him shut him up. "I'm sure Raph has his reasons. We're all dealing with this bullshit our own ways. His is just doing…whatever it is he's doing. Leave him alone."

The sizzle of oil filled the air. We were silent. Donnie drew in a breath.

"Mikey, I…"

"If anyone's to blame, it's Leo," I murmured, and stirred the food around.

Don looked pained. "You were so excited for him when he left."

"Yeah," I said. "That nearly two years ago." What I didn't say was _Back when he still loved us. _

I felt Donnie's hands run up my arms and I leaned into the touch, too tired to make jokes, too tired to insinuate, too tired to do anything but feed him and Master Splinter and maybe Raph when he found the leftovers.

Like I said, I'm the Baby, the Joker, the Clown. I make things better…but no matter how hard I try, it can only ever be half-assed.

**Third Terrace – The Wrathful**

The first thing I registered was that my eyes were burning. The second was that I couldn't breathe.

I doubled over, choking on each acrid intake of air. Tears ran freely down my cheeks and I peered through them blearily, trying to make out where I was.

"Prince Taanil?" I tried, weakly. There was no response. I walked, attempting to move aside the horrible, thick smoke all around me with my arms. It swirled for a moment and then quickly condensed around me again. No matter where I turned, it was everywhere.

Anger bubbled up inside me. "So you'll just leave me here now? On my own? What, is this another lesson to be learned? _Who gave you the right?_" I demanded of the smoke. It did not acknowledge me and instead only snaked its thin tendrils down my quickly seizing throat.

Words weren't forthcoming anymore. I couldn't have yelled anything else if I tried, so I settled for coughing and stumbling about blindly as the smoke stung my eyes to blackness.

"_Leo…"_

I whirled. A quiet, high-pitched voice – hardly more than a whisper and off to my right. "…Hello?" I called.

There was echoing laughter of children to my left. I turned again, trying to open my eyes against the smoke. By the time I'd focused, the voice was at my back.

"_Leo!"_

It sounded happy and familiar if displaced, like a voice heard in dreams but impossible to name. I tried to lick my cracking lips and only swallowed another mouthful of smoke.

"Who's there?" My voice was little more than a croak and that frustrated me more than my inability to see. I did not like being robbed of my senses one by one.

_"Leo…!" _

"Show yourself!"

"_LEO!!"_

This time it was painful, and I knew it at once.

"…Raph?" I asked, weakly.

_Leonardo, at eight years old, finally figured out that his brother was completely impossible and by the time he was nine, he'd taken up remedying that in the only way he knew how. _

_"Give my truck back!"_

_"No."_

_"You're so MEAN, Leo!"_

_"Don't yell at me!" _

_"Hate you!"_

_"Hate you more. You want your stupid truck? Come get it like a real ninja."_

_Tough love, anger, threats...led to dissent led to fury, led to the dissolution of trust. To repercussions. _

_Raphael came home with a gash on his leg, gritting his teeth against the pain. Leo looked down at him while Donnie bandaged him up._

_"You should have been more careful."_

_Raph glared up at him with fire in his eyes. "I got nothing to say to you." _

_Nevermind that the blow had been meant for him. Leo couldn't fathom gently thanking Raph and fussing the way that Donnie did, or the broad, boyish hug Mikey would have offered. He buried his feelings under the shock of the moment, when the truth of it all was…he was scared. Raph might have died. How to prevent it from happening again?_

_Train Raph till he was sore; train him till he bled. Just train him, so that he'd never have to save Leo again. They'd all train tomorrow…Leo most of all. _

_Failure to see the man coming with the knife glinting in the moonlight. Why hadn't it caught his eye? Less than desirable, no room for mistakes. _

_So Leo would train until his fists were raw, his calves were screaming, the tip of his blades dull. He'd train until every last iota of anger at himself was wrenched out of his panting, trembling body by force until he was nothing but a blue and silver blur of elegant perfection and personal wrath. _

_Because he couldn't let it slide. He couldn't say "We'll do better next time."_

_There were always repercussions, because Leo couldn't handle that 'next time' might never come. _

_"Stop yelling at me! I'm trying!"_

_"Try harder!"_

_Till the difficult little brother stopped giving him those openly adoring looks, and started to resent him instead._

_"Leo!"_

_"LEO!"_

"Raph!"

The smoke thinned and I could breathe, long enough to say:

"I'm sorry…"

I slowly sat down and stared at my hands, all irritation at my surroundings gone. I spoke openly to the brother that couldn't hear me.

"It was my inability to cope with my own fears that made me so angry at you. I didn't want to hurt you…I just didn't want to see you _hurt._"

It sounded so stupid to me now, laid out like that.

"They say that when you're using hindsight, your vision is nearly perfect."

I lifted my head. "Prince Taanil."

His smile was gentle as he touched my forehead. As it started to burn, he knelt and whispered in my ear "You're doing wonderfully, Leonardo…go on…"

The smoke suddenly vanished, as if it had been sucked out on all sides. I was in an empty room made of coal, and I very suddenly wanted to leave.

"Very well. On we go."

**Fourth Terrace – The Slothful **

As soon as the words left his mouth, the room dissolved. I watched it with a remote kind of fascination, as if I did not really believe what I was seeing. The world rippled and reformed, creating itself from Chaos into a vast row of blackness. Still dark, still dangerous.

"What's going on, Prince Taa-" My words were cut off as a dark shadow fell over me and I rolled on instinct. A giant boulder landed where I had been not a half second before and showered little rocks and debris on me. I jerked my head up and rolled again in time to narrowly miss being crushed by another boulder. Soon I noticed that this was not a rogue occurrence and the longer I stood still the more likely I was to die. I jolted to my feet and began to run.

"This," Taanil said from somewhere above me, "Is a test. Have you not figured that out yet, Leonardo?"

I said nothing, only focusing on the shadows of the rocks as they fell, trying desperately not to be flattened. My footsteps and the crashes echoed in the otherwise empty space.

"Everyone has Sin within them. No matter what religion one practices, what language they speak, it is a universal theme. But, Leonardo, sin may be overcome."

I ran harder, grunting when a large piece of debris smacked me in the shoulder. He followed me as I ran, speaking as if completely unperturbed.

"Something inside you brought you here, that much is obvious. But there is something holding you back."

My breath was starting to hitch as I drew it in with as much control as I could manage, forcing the oxygen to pump to my tiring legs.

"Don't you wish to know?" He asked gently. I jerked to my right, narrowly missing a jagged piece of rock from slicing my throat. "All you have to do is exhale, and realize."

"I want," I gasped, "Your medallion, you sadistic son of a-"

"Ahh, is that really it?"

A giant boom resonated and shook the floor as the biggest boulder yet crashed down a few scant feet behind me. I felt the vibrations of its impact slither up my legs.

"I want the power to heal Sancho!"

He clucked his tongue somewhere near my ear as I crouched in time to let a baseball-sized rock fly over my head, but it boomeranged back somehow and caught me in the side. I let my air out in a surprised huff of pain.

"Try again, Leonardo."

"I want," I croaked, drew in a breath, started running again. "I want you to stop raping my mind!"

Five rocks came plummeting down from nowhere and surrounded me, trapping me and knocking me to my shell. I dizzily tried to stand, but my legs were like gelatin and I was nauseous.

"You can't escape from pain until you know what is causing it."

"I…want…" it was a torment to breathe, the air searing through my exhausted lungs. "_I want my brother back!"_

Taanil materialized in front of me, and in his blue eyes I saw the sad, steady gaze of understanding and knew in that instant that he knew exactly what I was feeling.

"I know you do, Leonardo," he said, laying a hand on my forehead that felt more like a gust of cool air than anything else. "But now you do, as well."

The world swirled around me, and I relaxed into the vision with submission this time instead of obstinacy.

**Donatello**

Say you were given a choice.

You have the opportunity between choosing an eternity of comfort with the stain of mediocrity, or a brief, vivid flash of perfection. Which do you choose?

I sometimes wonder about things like that when I'm lying in bed, staring at the crumbled old ceiling of my room. I watch moss grow through the cracks in the dripping bricks and I think about existence, and how ephemeral it can really be.

Moreover, I'm generalizing my thought process to make it broad and pretty. What I'm really turning over in my brain is the possibility of…well…sunshine.

Mikey's been restless lately. My suspicions run the general course of it having something, if not everything, to do with the fact that the two-year mark of Leo's departure is rolling around. It's interesting to me, in a removed, cynical kind of way, that instead of us worrying over him and fearing him dead, the only thing we're feeling now is…abandonment. Neglect. A year without word, and we can't spare the time to wonder if his body is lying in a jungle or some wasteland, prone and split and a treat for any wandering scientist in the wilds of Central America. Instead, we mark the days off on the calendar like they're a silent accusation…one day more, one more worry, one drop less of sympathy we might have for his cause.

Don't misunderstand me. If he walked through that door right now, I'd grin like a fool and shake his hand. But the probability of that is less than the thing I think about every night as I'm trying to go to sleep.

And we come full circle. What is that thing, you ask? Well…I wonder. Master Splinter has always, always warned us that we are not allowed to go topside in the daylight. The consequences, he says, would be dire and now that I'm old enough to go through the scenarios myself I realize that he was absolutely correct. If something possessed us to go above ground in broad daylight without the slightest precaution, it would be ninety-eight percent accurate to assume that something unfavorable would occur. Fifty-three percent of these scenarios end in our eventual deaths.

Mikey's been restless, and more and more often I'm debating risking that slim margin of error and taking him above ground while the sun is shining out. He gets some exposure with this new job of his, able to feel the warmth of it on his arms and legs and shell…but to see it shine full on his _face _and the smile that it brings…

They say that a life lived in light is often extinguished in the dark, but wouldn't it be ironic for our sarcastic, playful little brother to die smiling in the sun.

So that's what I think about. If Leo can go out and tempt fate and lose, why can't we make a try for that few moments of peace, paradise, and perfection even if it ultimately leads to our demise? Even if we got carted away right afterwards, wouldn't it be worth it to have seen it just the once?

Then my eyelids grow heavy, and as I shut them there is no change between the dark of my room and the blackness behind my eyes…and I wonder: This isn't like me at all. I'm content in the dark. I have artificial lights and machines and that's all well and good. But that temptation, the forbidden taboo…to see him smile, would it be worth it?

More than Leo's quest, I think. He went out there to further himself, and we lost him. 'Better to die trying', they say. Well.

'They' say a lot of things that sound better in the dark.

**Fifth Terrace – the Avaricious**

_"I can't…"_ I sobbed. "I can't _do_ this anymore."

"To forfeit means your life, forever."

"I don't care." My fingers ground into the volcanic ash I was sprawled on. Fistfulls, then relaxed. "I can't shoulder more of this guilt."

Slipping, falling…the freewheeling feeling of the beautiful downward spiral. How low would I be able to fall?

_When you were ten, your Master gave you all a weapon. They were meant to personify your best traits, to serve you as well as they might in battle._

"Stop…I don't want to hear it." I begged. My voice cracked. He was talking, still.

_You saw those swords gleaming in the dojo's firelight…and you wanted them. You wanted all that they symbolized, and the power that came with holding them. Two big, strong swords of beauty and precision to make you feel deadly, benevolent, perfect like a god. They were you, paired._

I've always been a pair.

_But someone else wanted them, too…_

_"You can't use the swords, Raphael. You'll cut yourself."_

_"Will not! Who says you won't?"_

_"I'm better trained."_

_"Sais're sharp, too. Take them. If you're better trained, you'd use 'em better than I could."_

_"You just want the swords because they're big and shiny."_

_A frustrated glare. "Do not! They…they're…"_

_What you both knew, and lusted after. Power. They were Leadership forged in steel and leather. And you could never give that up…especially not to him. Not now. Not ever._

_It's your darkest part._

"Stop this!"

Floating…falling…I thought I might be sick. Lurching acid and the impossibility of the eternal trajectory path.

_So you talked to your Master. Wooed him with your humble honor-play. Told him you didn't deserve such perfect tools, but should be bestow them on you, you would do your best to be worthy. _

_They glint so beautifully in the candlelight. They ought to. You polish them every day – respectfully, reverently, because they represent everything to you. Duty, Honor, the Power to protect your family. _

_Power._

_So he gave them to you…and not to him._

_"Don't touch those!"_

_"Why? 'Fraid I'll get fingerprints on 'em?"_

_"Just…just don't. They're not yours."_

_"Master Splinter says we should be versed in all weaponry."_

_"…You're too young for swords."_

_And you both knew the truth. You were very nearly the same age. Sometimes it just takes longer to learn to share._

_Power._

"STOP IT!"

_Power._

Falling through the floor 'til the feeling of dirt was a far-off, distant memory.

**Sixth Terrace – the Gluttonous **

_Power, that Forbidden Fruit…the sweet taste of the taboo that destroyed Eden and brings men to their knees. You wanted it, sometimes for the right reasons, sometimes just to keep you safe._

The emptiness hit me as a pang in the stomach, though I had nothing left to purge. Tears blocked my airways, and I could no longer freely breathe.

"…Stop…just stop talking…"

_You didn't want him to see you weak. You wanted to always be that pillar of strength, that guiding light. If he could see you fail, he would doubt you, and you needed -thrived like a starving man – on his admiration. You starved in secret for that attention. You needed those furtive, yearning glances that spoke the volumes he could not, and you could only keep up that façade as long as you felt powerful._

_Power, Leonardo, corrupts. _

Dry heaves wracking my body as I trembled. Faster now, the fall, spiraling, spinning, tumbling, down into the deepest thickness of Hell. Heat and sweat and guilt and pain-

Tumbling…fading…falling.

Falling into darkness, and into my own sin.

Falling...

…Until I hit.

**Raphael**

David kept a lotta books on his shelves. After all of the drugs and rapes and murders, I had a little bit of downtime. Sometimes used it to read.

Franz Kafka wrote this book called _The Metamorphosis. _It's translated, you know, so the language is kind of choppy. But you get the general idea.

There's this guy. He wakes up one morning and he's become a giant bug. You know, like a cockroach or something. Huge and nasty, but still has his brain and all his human thoughts. His family comes in and tries to kill him, thinking he's a monster. Eventually he convinces them that he is still the same man, trapped in that hideous body.

In the end, he's killed by his own sibling. On accident, maybe, but still.

Makes you wonder. If your outer shell sometimes get a little bit ugly…if you're not really what you seem…does it matter? If you look dark and rough around the edges, you're still the same person somewhere deep down inside, right?

Or is it better that you submit, and die?

Dunno. Donnie's the brainy one, not me.

Are you still the same? Can you be redeemed? Does it matter if you're a monster, if inside you're still just you?

Me, I just deal with it on the side. Sometimes the thoughts just creep in to that drafty old hide out still stained with David's blood. When I'm bouncing the Nightwatcher helmet in my hand and staring at the walls, that's when I do my thinking – an' I always come to the same conclusion.

No. It don't matter worth shit.

**Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here**

**Seventh Terrace – the Lustful **

My body felt warm and heavy – slack, as if it were sinking to the bottom of a heated pool. I tried to take in a breath, and coughed. My airways were blocked by the thick stench of acrid smoke. Everything was a dull pain, registered but not truly felt. With great effort, I opened my eyes.

In front of me there was a wall of fire. In the fire were the twisting, distorted shapes of so many burning souls.

"You're in the lowest level, Leonardo. You have come to face your darkest fear."

Prince Taanil was beside me again, eyes subdued and somber. Through him, I could make out the silently screaming face of a woman in pain before she was engulfed once more by the flames. I winced and turned away.

"What more can you do to me? Can't you see I'm already broken?"

His smile was sympathetic. "Broken? No, hardly. You're weakened, and very close to the end, but all of this was but a hint towards a larger purpose. You have yet to face your darkest sins."

Sins. Such a distinctly Christian word. In the life my brothers and I led, there was so little room for questions of morality and judgment. It was fight or flight, and sometimes we got to pick who to fight for: the good guys or the bad. Of course we always chose the good, but that didn't make us heroes. We were survivors, first and foremost, and that oftentimes came with a price. There was no denying, especially now, that I was extremely gifted in the art of death.

"That is not what I meant, Leonardo."

Shakily, with every muscle straining, I got to my feet. I squared my shoulders and stared at him, the heat from the Wall at my back making snakes of sweat slither down my skin and into my shell. "Do whatever, send me wherever. I'm tired and I want to end this, now."

He nodded slowly. "Very well. Walk through the fire, then."

My hands twitched. I turned to look at the Wall and paled. So many bodies in shapes they could not normally achieve. "Through…that?"

"It is the only way out of your chains. Incidentally, the only way out of the temple as well. The only way wherein you will remain alive, in any case."

I balled my hands into fists. "Fine. Whatever. So long as I leave in the end."

We met eyes. Though his were still mostly translucent, I could see a lot in them – stars, thoughts, dreams; they were eyes that Master Splinter would say 'had seen much of life'. In this case, I think it went beyond that…he was just as weary as I. My stance softened, and though my heart was still beating in fear of the horror behind me, his sadness was infinitely more compelling.

"I will do this," I said gently, "For both our sakes. I will free us both."

Again he nodded, but this time said nothing. I bowed, and my muscles ached all over. When I straightened, I turned on my heel and headed with all the courage I could muster towards the Fire. Arms reached out for me, scorched, and disappeared. All over were wide open eyes melting and the stench of burning hair. I let out my breath.

Please, I prayed to whatever sick forces were listening, Let this be quick.

I took a step forward, and the heat and pain of it pain and heat pain burning Fire PAIN-

Deep. Rending.

PAIN.

'_Leonardo…'_

_Hands on his thighs, strong and callused. Leonardo's breath escaping in a shuddery slur. '…Raphael?'_

_'Heh. Yeah, S'me. Who else would touch you like this?'_

_The touch slid up, down, a smooth, slow dance. Fingers ghosting over knees and into the soft, sensitive flesh of inner thighs. A low moan escaped his throat. Everywhere, the air he breathed was warm._

_'Raph, why're you…?'_

_'Doesn't matter. You like it, right?'_

_'Mmmm…' There could be no denying that. Yes, he liked it, no matter what._

_Raphael appeared to him then, warm honeyed eyes narrowed and focused. His lips were parted, little short breaths escaping as his concentrated. His touches were more sure, teeth and tongue worrying at the pulsing vein of Leonardo's jugular. Leo's body, broken and bruised, began to quake. _

_'Raphael…' he ground out between clenched teeth. There was more heat now, tightness and desperation he couldn't deny._

_'S'not who I am to you anymore, Leo. Y'can't say it that way, anymore.'_

_'Raph…' His hips jerked and tears welled in his eyes. 'Mmmnph, Raph…'_

_Those strong hands ghosted over him and he spasmed, biting his own tongue till he tasted blood. Not enough to satisfy, but enough to make him beg. 'Please…'_

_'You left us, Leo.' All he could see now was that stern, accusing face. It wasn't the rough anger he'd gotten used to before he left, but the open hurt of the Little Brother he'd once known._

_Watching him train. Sharing his crayons. Pushing him into the mud, and laughing. Now those active, resourceful hands were holding him firmly down, forcing him to acknowledgement. _

_'You left us, and we have no idea where you are. You've forgotten us. You've forgotten me.'_

_'No, I never-'_

_'You want me to fuck you, Leo? S'that what you want?'_

_Leonardo's eyes snapped open. 'What?'_

_'It's all you seemed to want back then. Just my hands, my throat, my body. You didn't want me.'_

_He tried to sit up, but he was no match for his brother in terms of sheer brute strength. 'How can you say that?'_

_'If you wanted me, you wouldn't've left. You would've stayed.'_

_The night they'd first been like this, after a huge fight that had turned into angry kissing and fragile moments where words suddenly became inaccurate. They were both masters at misinterpretations, and always there was something hanging in that delicate, unsteady fulcrum. They'd met in the dojo, moved to the bedroom, and through blood and tears had given in to the darkness swelling inside them both. Leonardo could feel it rising in him now, that sick, overwhelming current that pulsed in his veins stronger than his own blood. _

_And as their sweat had cooled, he'd left. He'd taken the moral high road, and ended it – second guessing after sin. _

_'If you'd wanted me, you would have stayed.'_

_He strained for the touch, the darkness like bile in this throat. Tears coursed down his cheeks. He wanted to say "I'm sorry", but it came out 'Raph, God, please…'_

_A bitter chuckle. 'Yeah, can't deny it either. Don't you know you broke me then? Don't you even give a shit that the Little Brother you knew and loved DIED that night?' _

_It was Leonardo's worst fear, but he'd seen it coming. Nothing comes without a price. He choked and doubled over, falling into strong, hypocritical arms. His tense thighs shivered._

_'It was the right thing to do…we can't continue like this…' but his body ached._

_A derisive snort. 'The right thing, huh? You're a real trip, Leonardo. Got it all figured out. Well, fuck you and your impeccable logic. I hate you for it, now.' But even as the words were spoken, Raphael let go of him and rocked back on his shell. His eyes went dull and he spread his legs._

_'This is what you wanted, all along. Here I am, m'not gonna fight. Take me. Go right ahead.'_

_Leonardo shivered to the core, hands clenching and unclenching into fists. He wanted – oh, there was no denying that! – but…_

_Raphael looking up at the moon through the bars of the sewer grate. _

_"Just helpin' you see stars, Leo."_

_He climbed onto his little brother, tears leaking onto the latter's plastron and rolling off the sides. The darkness pulsed strongly now. _

_"Am I my brother's keeper?"_

_Heat seared through him, frying his synapses, making his fingers spasm and jolt. Raph remained still, eyes narrowed, judging him the whole time. _

_Eyes that had been concerned, gentle. "You really think that, don't you?"_

_Now turned against him, accusatory. Raph's body, firm and yielding below him._

_He was so close. All he had to do was reach forward and –take-…_

_But Raph…_

_"Leo, you don't always gotta be so perfect. We like you just because."_

_Little Brother eyes, the kind that universally looked up to their brothers and said One day, I'll be just like him._

_Donnie, patient, gentle, abandoned and secretly bitter…_

_Mikey, brilliant, cheerful, now a cynical shell…_

_Raph gone off to God Knows Where…_

_All of them scratching a living off of memories and dust. _

_Suddenly the body below Leonardo didn't feel so firm. He summoned everything he knew he had inside of him, within and without – thought of Sancho, of Taanil – of Master Splinter, but most of all…_

_Most of all…_

_Most of all, he thought of Raphael. His difficult, contradictory, precious little brother with the jaded smirk and the deadly fists. Thought of him and how gently and hesitantly he'd cradled Leonardo on their first and last night together. Thought of him as a child, toddling after him, always barely two steps behind. Thought of his friendly smacks on the back, his breath smelling of beer after a night with Casey, his hands bandaged and bleeding but the cocky grin splitting his face making it better. _

_His brother, his missing piece, his soul. The Yang to his Yin. Both of them so difficult to put together, but so incomplete when left without. _

_He thought of all of this, smiled gently at the apparition below him, and slowly stood. Leonardo stretched out his hand to the fantasy below him, which "Raph" took in confusion._

_'I spent all of my life trying to figure you out. Sometimes hating you, always needing you. Now I know why,' he said gently, patiently. His voice had steadied and calmed, the darkness ebbing out of his system to be replaced with soothing cool. He leaned in and pressed his mouth to "Raph's" with all the sweetness he had left. They parted, and in an instant the vision disappeared. _

_Immediately, his vision went white._

Things cleared. My body was caressed by a cool breeze. I came back to my senses with a deep and infinite feeling of peace. I could hear water splashing and felt the cool mist on my face. All my eyes could see were clouds blowing by, the sky golden and light shining through in beams.

Is that what it was all about, then? We all had to sit back, accept, and let go? We had to gather all of the sickness inside of us, and look at it comparatively?

Something had changed inside me. I felt so…so light, so weightless. There was nothing holding me down now. I had only to reach inside myself, seek that pure light that was the love of him, and I was fine. I could do anything.

As I passed from that area and closed my eyes in bliss I knew it: There was a certain love and beauty about this that nothing could touch. Neither sin nor arguments nor guilt could overshadow that which I now _knew_.

I had the Power already, and he pulsed beside me like a steady breath. I had found what I was looking for.

And now, with that knowledge...

I, Leonardo, could perform miracles.

Prince Taanil, or the parts of him that weren't slowly dissolving into the fading light, smiled down at the peaceful, prone body of Leonardo resting on the marble floor. He knelt, passing a hand over his plastron and placed an airy kiss on his brow, then stood. By the time he had turned and stepped away he was gone entirely. Leonardo never woke but remained still, his hands clutching a brightly shining blue medallion languidly reflecting the clouds as they passed in the fading twilight sky.


	9. Chapter 9

Yep. This is the last chapter of TCSE, which is probably only a big deal for me. This was my first multichapter fanfic, and it's a little bit strange posting the end. I really hope you guys have enjoyed it. And serious, major thanks to everyone who left reviews. Means a lot to me. I know I suck at responding to them, but believe me, I do read them and adore you all for leaving them.  
Quick note: I refer to two people in Raph's life in this one; David Merriweather, the original Nightwatcher, from the TMNT movie prequel comics...and Mrs. Morrison, from the 2003 cartoon series episode "Touch and Go".

Also, the titles in bold are lyrics from the song "Falling Slowly" by Glen Hansard. Listen to it. It's gorgeous.

Also also. Head's up. This one earns the Mature rating. It's not vulgar, but it leaves little to the imagination.

**The Cautious Seldom Err**

**Part 8**

_**Timshel – part 2**_

"…_I feel that I am a man. And I feel that a man is a very important thing—maybe more important than a star. This is not theology. I have no bent toward gods. But I have a new love for that glittering instrument, the human soul. It is a lovely and unique thing in the universe. It is always attacked and never destroyed— __**because 'Thou mayest.'**__" – _John Steinbeck,_ East of Eden _

**Leonardo**

The first thing my eyes met with when they slit open was the painfully bright light of the sun. I winced and blinked them a few times until my pupils adjusted and focused on the canopy of trees overhead. It took a few groggy seconds for me to realize I was no longer in the temple but lying outside of my 'base' near the little spring where I collected water. I pushed myself up on my elbows and held my head which was still buzzing, but as I did so I noticed a barely perceptible shifting of weight on my plastron. I looked down and noticed just then the strange glow of warmth where the blue medallion hung beside the red.

So it hadn't been a dream? Every scratch and scrape I had acquired during my trials was gone, but there was the medallion. I had succeeded.

And Prince Taanil…? Had he…?

My eyes flashed open. There was no time for speculation. If I was here, that meant I had little time to get back to the village and heal Sancho – if it wasn't already too late.

I was on my feet in a half a second, flying over moss and brush, dodging limbs and logs as best I could. Nothing was in my way – it was all a blur. All that mattered was that point in the distance where the black smoke was rising.

The closer I got to it, the more I could hear. The sounds of guns, women screaming. I pushed myself more than I ever had before, stretching every tendon in my legs. I ran until my body went into autopilot and my brain could only concentrate on the task of getting there until I finally crashed through the brush.

The huts that had been spared were being looted. Men were pointing sniper rifles at a group of people huddled in front of the church. One was dragging a woman into the jungle by her hair. It was them I targeted first.

A well-placed kick sent him sprawling, and a few swift blows with the blunt handle of my blade knocked him out for good. I ignored the blood and spittle his loosened teeth has splattered onto my arm and gently hoisted the woman to her feet.

"…_Gracias," _she said bemusedly as she searched my face. I tried to smile reassuringly and nodded, pointing to the church. She spoke to me swiftly in Spanish, but all I caught were the words "soldiers" and "boy". That was enough for me.

My entrance had gone unnoticed by the soldiers in front of the church through all of the noise and confusion. It was an advantage I pressed, taking the opportunity to back flip into the circle of them, putting myself between them and the villagers.

"Inside the church!" I yelled over my shoulder. I doubted any of them spoke English, but my meaning was clear enough. "No matter what happens, I WILL protect you!" They pulled open the huge door and fled inside as I used my katana to deflect a few bullets fired at me. I did this until I was sure they were all safe, then lowered my blade and looked at the soldiers with narrowed eyes. The medallion at my throat began to glow.

"This village," I said, but out loud another voice layered over my words – my own voice speaking Spanish – hollow and echoing, "is under my protection."

Their eyes lit with understanding, then slanted in anger. They all raised their guns and I crouched. A bead of sweat slid down my forehead and stopped, suspended, on my cheek. No one moved.

It fell into the dust.

Bullets came at me from all directions. I heard screaming from the church. I launched myself into the air and let them all whiz past, swinging my katanas to deflect the errant ones. I roared, charging the soldier closest to me and beating him back against a tree until he slid down the trunk, unconscious. I used my left katana to unsling the gun from another approaching soldier and swung it around to hit another's knees. He buckled, and tripped the guy behind him.

One let out an angry shout and aimed at me. I watched the little red laser dot dance across my plastron and glared at him. In the nanosecond between his squeezing of the trigger and the release of the bullet, I threw a kunai at him that lodged right into the thin barrel of his gun; It exploded in his hands. My swords flashed in the light of the hut fires and the sun streaming down through the trees. Smoke choked my lungs. More bullets were shot – from there it became a blur.

When it was over, there was a pile of bodies at my feet and none of them moved. I think I killed more than one of them. I wasn't entirely sure.

As I stood there panting, I heard murmuring coming from the church. I wiped my forehead with my wrist and looked up, shielding my eyes. The woman I rescued at first leaned out of the window.

"_Viva!"_ she cried. _"Viva_ the Ghost of the Jungle!"

A chorus of others joined her, leaning out of the windows and calling to me. _"Viva_ the Ghost of the Jungle! _Viva_ the Ghost of the Jungle!"

I froze. Never had I heard this alien sound – people cheering for the deeds I had done.

Rosemaria appeared in front of them all looking tired and worn but with her lips pressed in a thin, relieved smile. I searched her eyes for a moment, then grabbed the church wall and started to climb.

**Games that Never Amount**

Raphael has a near picture-perfect memory. His brothers used to joke about it and test him by playing a game they called Memory, where they would arrange objects on a tray to be presented to Raph for thirty seconds only. Then it would be removed, he would wait another thirty seconds, and would then recite the contents of the tray to a point of uncanny exactitude. It got to the point where Mikey would start to switch up the objects just to laugh and say "Nope! Wrong again!" to which Raph would reply that the teapot Mikey had switched the old book out for had previously been sitting on the table next to them.

It came in handy later on, when they would be surveying the bodies around them after a fight and Raph would notice one missing. "Heads up, we've got a runner," he would murmur, and they would have no problem dispatching the attacker when he jumped them from the shadows.

The night that he and Leo had spent together, for Raph, was hazy at best.

It was always difficult for him to lift the blinders his emotions put on his surroundings. It was like viewing the world through different colored shades, except that his didn't block UV rays – they distorted reality. That night was colored in a wide spectrum – purple for peace, yellow for surprise, red for passion and fury.

It didn't happen as most of their normal confrontations did, in the dojo. It actually began on the roof. Leonardo had taken him out on patrol that night, given that Donnie had a headache and Mikey was a better nurse than Raph could ever be. He always had another reason, however: getting Raph alone. The things they said only carried real meaning for better or for worse than when their brothers were around to filter them. It was both a curse and a reward, and which one it was often depended on how the day had gone. That day had been a fairly uneventful one, so Leonardo anticipated the patrol to reflect that.

Raph had other ideas. "Why're we in this same neighborhood, Leo? It's fine. No new gangs, no new drug busts, no Foot. It's dead right now."

Leonardo rubbed his face. "Because, Raph, this is where we always patrol."

"I know that," his brother snapped back, whirling a sai in irritation. "That's the point. This place is _safe_ right now, Leo. Let's go east where we can really do some good. I heard that Big Man Taylor's gotta new pad down on Lispenard and Church, so if we-"

"_We, _in case you've forgotten, little brother, do not go _looking _for trouble. We simply keep our home and our neighborhood safe. No more."

Blood obviously beginning to simmer now, Raph shot a glare at him. "That's it, huh? That's all we gotta do? Just sit around with our skills and our abilities and keep our noses clean? There're people _dying _everywhere in this city, Leo. Don't you wanna save at least one of their lives?"

"Yeah," Leonardo snapped, stepping closer to his brother. "Yours."

Raphael's eyes narrowed and his grip tightened on his sai. Leonardo glared right back.

"Don't even think it, Raphael. I _will _beat you."

He could almost see his brother's face heat. "I swear to God, Leo, some day…" They both let the threat hang. Leonardo feigned indifference, but Raph, who knew every look his older brother gave, saw the twinge of regret. He opened his mouth to gloat.

The brick came out of nowhere and caught Raphael on the cheek. His head snapped right and he flew to the side, hit the ground and spat blood. Leonardo's swords were in his hands in an instant. He whirled, dodging another brick.

There were three of them, pierced and dyed Purple Dragons with their ripped clothing and rough looks. One of them, a kid in his late teens, tossed another brick menacingly up and down.

"Payback's a bitch, ain't it, freaks?" The middle one, a thin olive-skinned man in a black coat, hissed. "Thought we'd pay ya a visit and say hi."

"Leo-" Raph grunted. Leo stepped backwards to defend his brother while Raph stood, wiping at his bloody mouth with his wrist.

"Raph, who are these guys? What do they mean?"

"Buncha punks. Beat 'em good last week for trying to rob this old lady-"

There was no time for the lecture. They stood back to back, Leo's grip firm, Raph's a little looser through his woozy vision.

"Son of a bitch," he cursed under his breath. "Leo, I can barely see-"

Fear shivered through Leo's body. "Just stick close to me."

_I'll protect you._

"Whatcha waiting on? We ain't got all day!" The three Dragons laughed and through it Leonardo heard a distinct and terrifying click.

_GUNS._

His mind went through options in a nanosecond, weighing the outcomes, his strength, his ability to help his brother but they had _guns._

"Raph," he murmured. "When I say 'go', turn and run straight a few feet, and then left. When you feel the wall, go down the fire escape. The manhole is right below it."

"Leo-"

"Just _do it, _dammit!"

No further arguments were forthcoming. Raph let his breath out slowly.

"One."

"Y'aint gonna fight us? Well, that don't matter much. Still gonna pummel-"

"Two."

"-You. Kyle, show 'em what we do to those what mess with da Purple Dragons!"

"Three!" The third brick flew and Leo ducked as Raph took off running. Shots fired and Leonardo called on all his skills, deflecting them with his blades. Those that went over his shoulder he didn't think about. Raph was okay. He was.

They exhausted their rounds and fumbled in their coats for more ammo. Leo saw his chance and bolted, catching up to Raph and shielding him on the way down the fire escape. They heard the gang shouting, cussing, and the thunder of their footsteps as they pounded across the rooftop.

"Go! Go go!" he urged, guiding Raph's hands to the manhole ledge as he pushed the cover off. They had slid inside and he was replacing the lid right as a few more bullets ricocheted off of it.

They sat in the dark, panting, for a moment. "Well," Raph said between breaths. "That was magical."

Leo clenched his fists. "This is _exactly_ why we patrol our _own_ area! I can't believe you went _looking _for trouble!"

He could feel the air grow denser. "I wasn't looking for nothin'. Went up for air n' saw it happen, that's all."

"They had _GUNS, _Raph! What if you'd been shot? What if they had managed to-"

"Well, _what if_, Leo?! What if you'd leave me alone now and then? Wouldn't that solve a lot of your 'what-if' issues?!"

They stared at each other in the dim black sewer, Leo's eyes glittering and Raph's fever-bright. He coughed and flung out a hand to keep his balance. Leo's anger deflated.

"C'mon." He wrapped an arm over Raph's shoulder.

"M'okay, don't needya ta-"

"Shut up. Just walk."

The walk back to the Lair was slow. Raph kept swerving and stumbling, but by the time they'd made it back he'd regained some of his equilibrium. They got him up the ladder to his room with slow, deliberate movements, Leo supporting him from behind. He lowered Raph down on to the unused mattress in the corner, untying his mask for him while Raph removed his pads.

"Thanks, mom," he grunted, watching as Leonardo lit a new candle and placed it on his dresser. Leonardo rolled his eyes, but smiled.

"Want me to get Donnie? He should take a look at-"

"Nah. Feel better now. Just need to rest."

"What if you have a concussion? You could-"

"Leo."

Leonardo quieted. "Promise if it gets worse, you'll let me call Donnie."

Raph nodded his consent. They sat in companionable silence, Leonardo reluctant to leave for some reason. He threaded his fingers together and quirked a smile.

"Remember…remember the last time we played ninja hide-and-seek with Donnie and Mikey?" The snort from Raph he took to be affirmation. "Donnie was so proud of his heat sensor machine."

"Fuckin' cheater's what he was."

"Mikey didn't complain."

"Wouldn't, being with Donnie."

"What's that mean?"

"Nothin'."

"You kissed me."

That sentence stopped Raph's breath. They didn't look at each other as his throat worked and he said, "…yeah."

"Why?"

Raph was fidgeting now. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

At the time. Leonardo looked at the floor, counting bricks. He couldn't organize his thoughts well enough to get out a sentence he approved of, one that really conveyed what he wanted to say.

"Why? Y'want me to do it again?"

Leo looked up, startled, but said nothing to the contrary.

The candlelight made Raph's eyes even more dangerous than before. Leo had seen Raph in candlelight hundreds of times since they were kids, fighting in the dojo, meditating by his side, but never like this. Never so…so _feral_.

The touch on his cheek was burning hot. Leonardo couldn't help it; he closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. "Raph, you…you're hurt-"

"Shh. Stop thinking. If you keep thinking, you'll ruin everything."

Leo's eyes slowly slid open, dreamlike. "Ruin…?"

Raph smirked, a mixed pleasure in his gut of seeing Leo be so endearingly flustered and the knowledge that it was he, Raphael, who was achieving that effect. "Yeah."

He bent forward and their mouths met, soft at first. Little flickers of heat sparked up and down Leonardo's body, firing nerves that made him twitch. His eyelids were so heavy; he felt drunk. Something was…there was something he should…but Raph slid a thumb along his jaw line and Leonardo, Leader, could only be obedient. He opened his mouth to Raph's questing tongue. Raph's pleasure at this vibrated low in his throat, an unfamiliar sound that affected Leo deeply. He whimpered and wrapped his arms around Raph's neck, suddenly insistent. He was dizzy – didn't have enough air – didn't want it anymore. A rough, callused hand slid its way down his arm, teasing the hollow of his elbow. They parted with a gasp.

Raphael wasted no time. He gently brought Leonardo's arm to his mouth, kissing and teasing at the tender flesh all the way to his wrist. They sat that way- Raph running his parted lips and hot breath teasingly over the quickening pulse at Leonardo's wrist, Leonardo with his head dropped back, fighting to control his breathing. It sent heat straight to his groin and he _groaned._

"This isn't…Raph, we shouldn't…"

"What did I say…about thinking…" Raph murmured against his skin, and he shook to his core. God, Raph's _voice!_

Then, sensing Leonardo's hesitation, Raph flicked his gaze up to look at him. Leonardo saw him through his hooded eyes, saw Raph looking suddenly unsure, and even almost shy. That open, pleading look sent all of his misgivings into a corner. He could give this to Raph. Maybe it would help. Likely it was the worst idea they'd ever had and would bring them to ruins, but right now…right now, he could do this and it would make his precious little brother happy.

"Do it…" he said, nearly inaudible. It was exhaled as a breath. "Go ahead and do it, if you like. I won't tell, I swear."

He looked hurt, then. Quickly, to amend it, Leonardo brought his brother to him and pressed him against his plastron. They allowed a moment for their hearts to calm and as he ran a hand soothingly up and down his shell, he knew Raph understood that yes – yes, he wanted this, too.

Raphael had already found this out by sliding a slow hand down Leo's sides, tickling the sensitive day-hidden flesh there, and across his thigh to dip between his legs. Leo's back snapped as he arched, gasping with wide eyes. "G-…Raph!"

"Ssshhh…hush, big brother. They'll hear us."

There was something powerful about that sentence to Leo. He tried so hard to focus on it as Raph's finger trailed a line up his length. Was it the command in his tone? The -_ah_ - the admittance of their mutual sin in the fact that it had to be secret, or was it…was it…he hissed and his hips lifted without his permission. No. It was the way he said "big brother", in that calm, perfectly accepting way that he hadn't had since they were little. When Raph had shadowed Leonardo in everything he'd done, listened to everything he'd ever said. Back when they were happy and there was nothing in the world that could come between them.

The first touch of Raphael's tongue jolted Leonardo out of his thought process. He looked down, face flushed and eyelids drooping. This…Raph on his knees in front of him, it was so completely _wrong_…He reached his fingers out and touched Raph's head gently.

And difficult, angry Raphael's eyes then were smug…but differently from before. Leo could practically hear what he was thinking - _I know you're enjoying this. It suits us._

And he was mouthing it silently without realizing it – _"I love you."_

There was a pause; Raphael froze. Then Leonardo found himself lifted off the floor a few inches, pressed against a bruising mouth. He kissed back with all the power he had.

_This ain't real, _Raphael thought. _There ain't no way this can be real._

But Leonardo was in his arms and – yes, _moaning_ against his mouth. It didn't matter what the repercussions of this might be; at that moment, and that moment only, Raphael was only desperately thankful. He wanted to prostrate himself at the feet of whatever god had made this an actuality; he settled for burying his face in Leonardo's neck and sucking at his jugular.

"Raph!"

"Hmmn…"

Leonardo found himself then. His graceful hands slid down Raph's front, finding what they sought without effort. He touched his brother, watched in hazy fascination as Raph's mouth parted silently and his face froze. He let his hand linger, then slid gently up and down, fluid movements like kata.

"Huh – _uh_…"

"Quiet…"

Leonardo pulled Raph's face forward to kiss him, silencing his gruff pants. He lost himself in that movement, one hand on the back of his brother's neck and the other working smoothly down below. They stood like that for a moment only, before Raph gained his senses and took control again. Leo found himself against the wall, gazing darkly into Raph's heated eyes. They were pressed so close together that their legs entangled. Leo's shook as he slid against Raph's thigh.

"Raph, I…" he didn't know what he meant to say. The words tumbled out feebly.

"What? You what?"

"I…Is this what you want, Raph?"

Raph stared at him seriously. "You. I've…always…"

"So wrong…"

"Are you really sayin' that?"

Leo's eyes narrowed. "…You're wasting time."

There was challenge in that. Raph smiled cockily. "F'you say so."

He ground himself up against Leonardo and neither one of them could speak even if they'd wanted. He let his breath out, panting, growling. It made Leonardo spasm, so he continued doing it. Leo's hands gripped his at the wrist, forced them down. He would have been indignant if it hadn't…if he didn't want…

He wrapped his hands around his brother and jerked – hard.

Leo yowled like a cat, head flying back to hit against the wall. He winced, but only let his head fall to the side as he flushed even darker. Raph moved his hand up to cushion the space between Leo and the bricks, as it appeared to him that Leo had less control over his body than he'd previously let on. He settled instead for using his own body, grinding roughly against his brother, heat to heat.

Leonardo shivered, breathed erratically, and when his back began to arch, Raph stopped. Leo's eyes parted, dazed.

"Don't you dare-"

"Not here. Get on the bed."

That sentence hung there for a pause, before Leonardo complied. "I don't know…I mean, you'll have to…"

Raphael couldn't help the swallow his throat worked around. "Just…just lay there. I won't…won't hurtcha or nothin'."

Leo smiled at him. "I know."

And then Raph was on top of him, thrusting against him in all kinds of wonderful ways, and Leonardo didn't know anything anymore. He couldn't tell which fingers were his, which of them was murmuring those monosyllabic words, which of them was gasping. He felt himself connected with Raph at the basest level, shivering, trembling, loving, hating, pressed and unintelligible. He asked for more – harder- and Raph obliged and fuck, this wasn't what Raph had planned or imagined, but he was kissing his brother and the smell of patchouli on his skin was only feeding the flame – the knowledge that it was _Leonardo_ underneath him, out of control, and he was wildly returning everything Leo gave and gladly. That he held some kind of power over him, power to strip him down to this and that he could, and would, hold it as gently as possible in his shaking, battle-worn fingers.

And for Leonardo, whose mind was ten thousand leagues away, all he could deal in were sensations. The feeling of Raph's rigid heat inside of him, his own pressed against his brother so tight it nearly burned, and it all swept through him as fire and white-hot light, flaring up and engulfing him until all he could think was _Oh, God,_ and he was on the absolute fulcrum and bursting with it when Raphael ground out his name helplessly and came hot and hard inside of him. The sound of Raph's raspy voice drove him doubly hard until he lost himself somewhere entirely. He locked up, cried out wordlessly, and trembled in violent release.

The words on his lips weren't important – the essence of it all was just _Raphael…Raphael…_ just like it always had been.

In the middle of the night, Raphael pillowed on his shoulder, he senses slammed back into him with unforgiving force.

His brothers would find out. Their sensei would find out. He would favor Raphael in battle, they would fight even more now, they would endanger their brothers with their loss of focus. Something would go wrong. Something had gone wrong earlier and that had led to this whole mess. Raph still had the bruises to prove it, and damned if he wouldn't have more come daylight.

So he untangled himself from his little brother's arms and went to slip quietly away.

"…Figured you'd try that sooner or later."

He sighed, turned to look at Raphael with abject pain in his eyes. "Raph, we…this ins't right."

Raph slowly…very slowly…sat up in bed and looked at him. He couldn't move.

That night, Leonardo saw something he had never seen before. He saw Raphael, staring at him, tears sliding unchecked down his cheeks. Just…staring at him, as if Raph himself didn't even realize he was crying. His eyes were serious, golden, almost expressionless. As he waited for Leo to make a move, the tears continued to wind their slow course down his face and the skin of his neck. Horrified, Leo turned away.

He put on music to calm his mind, but he could still hear the muffled sounds at the break of dawn.

Two days later he was on a plane headed for Central America and a training mission he didn't actually plan to return from – ever.

Because he was a coward.

**To More Than They're Meant**

**Leonardo**

Sancho's breathing was irregular and his whole body was covered in misty sweat. I knelt beside him and picked up one of his wrists, timing his pulse. It was very, very slow. He twitched and turned his head at my touch.

"Hey, Sancho," I murmured gently. His eyes cracked open and I smiled as reassuringly as I could.

"_Senor_…you lived." His thin voice seemed to come from nowhere, his lips never moving.

"Sure did…and so are you."

I could feel the many eyes of the rest of the villagers as they watched me work. Some in awe, some in fear, a few with curiosity. I had been conscious of their stares before, having been unused to the scrutiny of humans; now I didn't pay them any mind. I had a job to do. Part of me wanted to seek out Rosemaria, that strange jungle-wise woman who seemed to know more about my purpose here than I did but after the trials I was sure of it: I knew what to do on my own.

He closed his eyes, as if trusting me and giving me permission to do whatever I wanted to his frail body. I, without really knowing what I was doing, hovered my hands over his chest.

Feeling silly on some base level, I licked my cracked lips. "You…uh, you might want to stand back."

Rosemaria translated my request for me, and the villagers shuffled backwards to give me space. At that point, I focused my concentration inward and let all of the background noise become a din –

A faint blue glow grew within the medallion and spread as I concentrated. I could see thin, bright threads of blue snake their way down my arms. I should have been concerned, but wasn't. This felt…warm, correct. This wasn't anything new – this was my own energy, manifested.

I settled my hands on Sancho's chest and closed my eyes, focusing only on my task and letting the medallion do the rest. When the light grew so bright I thought something might burst into flames or shatter, I felt his chest stop and grow still.

A second went by. Two seconds. Three.

On the third, Sancho sucked in a huge gasp of air and his eyes flew open. He coughed and sat up, trying desperately to clear his lungs. I grinned widely in relief and patted him on the back as he choked. When the fit passed, he looked at me with thin, watering eyes.

"…Thank you…_Senor_."

My smile warmed considerably. "Don't mention it."

Rosemaria fell to her knees beside me, hugging her son to her chest in a powerful hug. "_Mi amor_!" she cried, tears falling freely into her son's hair. He grinned and hugged her back.

I stood from my knees and took a look at the villagers. Their eyes were full of disbelief, but not one of them looked scared anymore.

"It's a miracle…" one of the elder ladies said. I furrowed my brow, realizing that I could understand her.

"He has done it! We are saved!"

"They are gone!"

"_Viva! Viva El Fantasma de la Selva! Viva _the Ghost of the Jungle!" Then they all took up this cry, once more, in unison. "_Viva _the Ghost of the Jungle! _Viva _the Ghost of the Jungle!"

"No matter what happens," I said again but this time loudly, confidently. "I _will_ protect you!"

I stood there smiling, looking over each and every one of their unfamiliar, relieved faces and for once in my mistake-ridden life, felt like I'd done something good.

**Will Play Themselves Out**

When Leonardo walked out on Raphael and Michelangelo could hear his brother crying through the walls, he was still ignorant of all that had come before that point. He did what came naturally, when he had always done, and went to Donatello's room.

Donatello was seated quietly at his computer, staring blankly as numbers and figures scrolled by. Mikey rapped quietly on the door but his brother didn't look up, so he situated himself on the floor by his feet.

"Leo'n Raph are fighting," he said, picking at something on the ground.

"What else is new." Donnie never took his eyes off the screen. They sat that way for a stretch of a few minutes. Mikey sighed and stood to leave.

"Wait, Mikey, sorry," Donnie amended, swiveling his chair around and looking at him with tired eyes. "I'm just used to it now, ever since sensei told Leo he was going off to train. Aren't you?"

Mikey looked up at him, noting the very beginning of circles under his eyes. "This is different."

"How so?"

"Raph was crying."

There was a pause of silence. Donatello opened his mouth then closed it, choosing his words. "I guess…they finally figured it out."

Mikey's brow furrowed. "Figured what out?"

"Oh, Mikey. Don't tell me you hadn't noticed."

"Oh. That."

They were quiet again. Finally, Mikey spoke, but hesitantly. "I think…I mean, I don't blame him. It doesn't…bother me at all, I guess. We're all we've got, right?" He turned his eyes up to Donnie, who was struck as he was on occasion by how full and serious his baby brother could be. He grasped so much more than they gave him credit for; Donatello knew that now was not the time to hedge. They couldn't, and didn't need to protect him so much anymore.

"You're absolutely correct, Michelangelo," he said quietly, placing his hands on his thighs and returning his steady gaze.

Something clicked in Michelangelo's mind then. "Donnie?"

"It doesn't bother me, either. We _are_ all we have."

Michelangelo, while not the technical left-brained genius like his brother, didn't need things spelled out in small words. He dealt in feelings, and what he saw then in Donnie's eyes –that didn't require explanation. He saw dinosaurs, video games, nights spent in Donnie's bed when his older brothers were fighting outside. He remembered playing with his action figures as a kid beside Donnie's desk while he read – the only brother who tolerated him at all times, gently and patiently. Even their father didn't know how to handle Mikey like the second-oldest son. Donatello had figured out at a young age that all Mikey needed was something to keep his hands busy and someone to occupy his mind. Donatello had understood, and now, so did Michelangelo. He smiled warmly up at Donnie, aged nearly five years in as many seconds. He stood and embraced his brother, tucking Donnie's head into his shoulder, their roles reversed. Donnie accepted this, holding Mike's sides with shaking hands. Outside, the Lair had grown silent.

"It'll be okay, Donnie."

And when he heard it come from Mikey, Donnie actually believed. And he held on to that for the next year; but as the months crawled on, even with this new and - in his mind- improbably beautiful change, he found it harder and harder to remember what it felt like to hope.

**You Have Suffered Enough**

**April**

"Here, please," the old lady behind the market cart said pleasantly and crinkled her weathered eyes at me in a smile as she handed me the little packet of beans I'd just purchased from her. I smiled and nodded back, accepting the bag and placing a few coins – more than the beans cost, I'm sure, into her hand. She looked surprised and tried to hand them back to me, but I shook my head.

"Keep it, please, I won't need much money anymore," I said, swinging my backpack around in front of me to zip the bag inside next to the others. She watched me with interest, lifting her eyebrows at the zillion different pieces of fruit and bags of nuts I had crammed in there.

"Where you go?" She asked in cracked, jilted English.

I didn't look up from trying to jam this bag down enough to zip the pack back up. "Into the Jungle. I'm collecting statues for a rich man in New York City."

"The jungle is very dangerous place. But you a pretty girl, Ghost of the Jungle watch over you," she said, nodding to herself slowly.

This time I looked up. "The…Ghost of the Jungle?"

Her eyes glinted, as if she'd been waiting to tell somebody this particular story and was thrilled that I'd asked. Which I had, because the name was interesting, but I didn't know if I cared enough to sit around wasting time listening to some-

"The Ghost of the Jungle is strange creature. He watch over our village where I live in jungle, protect our women and children…men, too, in fields. He is lizard man, maybe, green all over with three fingers, two toes. He wear a cloak wherever he go to blend in with shadows. He come, save people, disappear just as fast. Very mysterious. Very lucky."

Scratch that. I was suddenly _very_ interested in what the old woman had to say. "He…where did you say you lived again?"

The car ride to the village was in an old, dusty Jeep driven by the market lady's son. She'd insisted that he drive me if I was determined to go to the village, which I was. "Ghost may be nice, but he not quick as jaguars," she'd said sagely, and I wasn't about to argue.

"So," I yelled over the bumping and crunching of the tires over the terrain. "How far are we going?"

He grinned toothily at me, and I took that to mean that he had no idea what I was saying. "Um…_la…la aldea? Esta_…"

"_La aldea está en la selva, quizá veinte millas de aquí. No lejos. Goce la vista."_

"Uh…_gracias."_

So I did. I sat back and enjoyed the view, wondering how in the hell he had managed to stay out here for two years alone.

The village was unimpressive. I mean, I don't know what I'd been expecting, but it was only a couple of sad looking huts in a cluster. The most impressive thing was a pretty big church at the end of the row. I rubbed my hip, sore from banging against the door handle as we'd made the trip, and dug in my pockets for some money.

I handed what I had to the driver who smiled and shook his head, declining it. " _El fantasma hizo favores para nosotros. Ahora, he hecho una favor para el fantasma."_

I caught most of it, but smiled anyway and nodded. He pointed a finger down the road and to himself, indicating that he was going to the village's one trading post and that was where I would find him later. I nodded once more and set out to find someone – anyone- who spoke just a little bit of English, or at least slow, simple Spanish.

I was so intent on what I was doing, I didn't realize I'd practically steamrolled a little kid playing in the street. Tripping and catching myself, I managed not to completely fall on my butt in the dust, but it still wasn't graceful. The little boy ducked and laughed.

"_Hola,_uh…"

His grin widened. "I speak some English, if that will help."

Okay. Well. That caught me kinda off-guard. "Oh. Um. Yeah, actually, it does. My name is April. What's yours?"

He rubbed his hand against his pants to clean the orange dust off and presented it to me. I laughed and bent to shake it. "Sancho."

"Hi, Sancho. Listen…um…this is going to sound kind of crazy, but have you heard any kind of…I don't know, legends or stories or something about a Ghost?"

His big smile, if it were even humanly possible, got bigger. "Sure! I know the Ghost. Are you looking for him?"

Man. Luck was certainly being a lady tonight. "Yes. Yes I am."

"He lives in the Jungle. He was here this morning."

As recently as that? I was surprised. "Where did you see him last?"

He pointed up to a tree standing near the ferns where the village ended and the jungle began. "There. That's where I saw him."

I peered into the tree, gauging. Light was fading, and I would have to be quick. "Thank you. You'd better get home now."

Sancho looked at me, curious. "Do you know the Ghost?"

Part of me kind of…slumped, I guess, at that. I turned and gave him a small smile. "He wasn't always a ghost."

Talking to Leo was surreal at best. He'd changed a lot, and you could tell it'd been a while since he'd spoken to someone he really knew. It was kind of like talking to someone who'd had a stroke – who was remembering the right mannerisms, their own personal way of speaking. That, or a ten story brick wall.

He wasn't coming home. I'd done all that I could do, and he wasn't coming home. I left Donnie's business card on the rock I'd been sitting on inside the cave, and exited more gracefully than I'd come.

I'd missed him, of course I had, and seeing him again was wonderful and strange. But to have that and know that it might not happen again for a long- for a _very_ long time was…

As I walked back towards the village my eyes started to sting, mostly when I realized: I had to tell the boys.

**Raphael**

"Don't you ever get sick of tea, Mz. M?" I asked jokingly, fishing the last few bags of Darjeeling from the cupboard. Mz. M was taller than me by an inch or so, but I had better dexterity when it came to finding things.

She laughed that nice, homey old lady laugh. "Don't be silly, Raphael. Tea is very good for you. Lots of herbal benefits, and it won't keep me awake at night." I chuckled at that. She'd since found out that I wasn't too hot on tea, but loved a cup of black coffee. She detested the stuff, but kept it around just for when I would visit.

"One lump or two?"

"Oh, just one today. I don't need the extra sugar."

I stirred the sugar in with a smile and put it on the old table in front of her, handle first. "There ya go, Mz. M. Just like ya like it."

"Thank you, Raphael." She picked it up and took a cautious sip. "My, you certainly have gotten the hang of this. You're such a dear, thoughtful young man."

I quirked a grin. "Yeah…tell that to my brothers."

"Oh?"

Plunking down in the seat across from her, I blew off the wisp of steam from my cup of coffee. "Yeah. They think I'm hotheaded and selfish."

She smiled in a way that kinda reminded me of Jackie Kennedy on tv. "And are you?"

"Uh. I guess. Well…I can be. Hotheaded, yeah, but I think my older brother and I have different definitions of 'selfish'".

I liked the way she laughed. I think that was a lot of why I came to visit her. It was weird, hearing a lady laugh. I mean, we heard April all the time, but she's no lady. Plus, it had the kinda husky sound in the throat that reminded me of Master Splinter. We hadn't heard him laugh much lately, either.

"See…my big brother and I, we don't get along real well most of the time. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love 'em, sure. But…he's really strict, and he's half in charge now that our Dad's getting on in years. He likes rules, I like to go with the flow. He tells me I'm gonna get into trouble some day, but I don't think anything I find on the streets is worse'n hearing him bit-" I paused and looked at her raised eyebrow. "…hearing him complain."

"Well," Mz. Morrison said, putting her cup down as her cat Lucy hopped into my lap. "I don't think that's unusual, Raphael. I bet a lot of siblings out there feel the same way you do for your brother."

I winced, and was glad that she couldn't see it. "I…maybe." Lucy nudged at my hand and I scratched her absently behind the ears.

"Oh, Lucy, you're so right. It's dinner time! Raphael, would you care to stay for supper? We normally have soup on Tuesdays, but there's plenty for all."

There was a part of me that knew that Mz. M didn't have much to go around, but I also knew that she was lonely. I grinned. "I uh…I love soup." I was actually pretty apathetic about soup, but whatever. It was nice to see her happy.

"Wonderful! Be a dear, won't you, and grab me a big pan from the cabinet beside the stove?"

Spending time with Ms. M was nice. She always gave me a pat on the head, encouraged me to grow my hair out like a gentleman, and gave me a bag of cookies to take home.

I didn't take them home, of course. My brothers would ask me where it was that I went at night that involved me coming home with bruises, cuts, and a bag of cookies. I took them to David's old place, the same one I still used, and kept them there.

I didn't always go there to suit up. Sometimes I just went there to be alone for a while, with moonlight streaming in the window of the living room and the comforting sounds of car horns from the street. A lotta times, I'd kick back and read something from David's old collection. He was a nerdy old coot, and kept a buncha dirty copies of books with scribbles, underlines, and notes in the margins. Stuff I guess he thought was important.

It's a thing about literature. You know, you can apply it to any situation, right? But there were days when I'd be relaxing sideways in David's big, ancient-ass armchair, reading, and one of the passages he'd underlined would nail me in the gut.

_"A guy needs somebody to be near him. A guy goes nuts if he ain't got nobody. Don't make no difference who the guy is, long's he's with you. I tell ya, I tell ya a guy gets too lonely an' he gets sick." _

Then I'd slam the book in frustration and put on the suit. Slow, with half-guilty movements. Thinking of Mikey, but especially of Don.

And someday, you know someday it's gonna be me who says "I'm sorry" first. Just seems like my brothers always beat me to the punch.

But that's the story of my life, ain't it? And maybe that's why: I watched him go, all proud and noble, all that hard work paying off. And I'm still here, stagnating, held back and nothing else has changed. Still here sick, still here alone.

And before I go out on patrol, I contradict every damn thing I'm thinking and stuff that extra blue bandana into my pocket again. Like a good luck charm, or something. I know I'm holdin' on to things I can't have. I remember that night; it's branded onto my eyelids. I remember the look in his eyes when he left. Not just when he left for training but when he left me alone, too scared to look back. I saw the emptiness in his eyes and knew- I'd fucked him up for good, then.

There was no use lookin' back anymore. I'd made a path for myself, and empty as it was I'd be damned if I wasn't gonna follow it on my own.

"_How can we live without our lives? How will we know it's us without our past? No. Leave it._

_Burn it." _

**Leonardo**

The night that April left, I made a trip to the village and found the one "public" telephone they had. It was in a little shack near the entrance, with faded maps and a gunrack. It was, I'd since gathered, the "office" of the watchman who, since I'd arrived, hadn't been around all that much. I fished in my belt, found the nearly untouched calling card Master Splinter had given me, and used it to dial the number on the business card April had left me. It rang three times.

"Thank you for calling Intelacast's technical hotline. I'm Donnie, your friendly IT tech support specialist here to help you twenty-four hours a day. What seems to be the trouble?"

My throat closed and I swallowed. Never in my life had I heard Donnie sound so hollow. I wanted to reach through the phone and hug him, rip the cords from the wall, something. My gentlest brother, so empty and monotone.

An absolutely exhausted, frustrated sigh. "Hello?"

I was scared by the reality of it all, overwhelmed by hearing his voice again after two years.

"_Hello?_"

I hung up.

That night, I removed all traces of my life from the cave. The next morning I had left a note on Rosemaria's door, thanking her and saying goodbye. And the night following, I was on my way back to the coastal port taking the first step on my long journey home.

**And Warred With Yourself**

**Epilogue**

"My son, though I had imagined you had kept busy and held up a steady training regime, I did not anticipate it to be so altering to you."

The tips of Leonardo's mouth quirked in a very small smile. "I am grateful for the lessons I learned there, Master. I apologize once more for being gone so long."

Splinter's eyes narrowed kindly. "My son…we all must do what we feel we must. If you felt the need to be there longer, then it was for the best. I am only glad that you have returned to us in one piece, and now I wish for you to take your place once more as leader of your brothers. There is much that has fallen apart since you left which now requires mending."

Leonardo bowed his head obediently. "Yes, Sensei." He looked as if he had just remembered something and said, "Master…how did you know about the medallions in the first place?"

A warm chuckle as Splinter poured another cup of tea. "My son…where do you think I got that medallion I handed you not an hour before?"

He laughed huskily as Leonardo coughed. "What? But…that's...Prince Taanil had it. Rosemaria said that no one knew-"

"Of all your brothers, I had not imagined you to be so literal."

Leonardo searched his father's eyes, utterly confused. Splinter sank back on his heels and pointed over Leonardo's shoulder.

"You carry your _katana _everywhere. Why?"

His response slow in forming, Leonardo furrowed his brow. "Because…" he began, "they are a part of me. A…a symbol of what I believe in, all that I've learned."

Splinter nodded. "A symbol, yes. They are for you the manifestation of the power of your soul. Think of the medallion as a symbol. When I was at that temple in my earlier days, when I left you and your brothers with the Ancient One for a period, I too found myself tested. I, too, was given a medallion. Though it did not look as you describe."

"Master Splinter." Leonardo spread his hands in a gesture of utter disbelief. "Prince Taanil told me that no one had yet to claim the medallion. He said that many had tried and failed."

Chuckling, Splinter patted his eldest son's hand in sympathy. "Not the ultimate medallion, no. But a manifestation of personal and spiritual worthiness. Only you, it seems, were meant to bring peace to those ancient brothers. As I had know all along, in my heart."

They sat in silence as Leonardo took it all in. "You knew. You knew I was meant to help Prince Taanil, and that is why you sent me to Central America and not Japan?"

Splinter's expression and voice gentled. "Yes. Because you understand better than anyone else what it is like to play the part of Older Brother to your own cosmic opposite."

That settled on Leo's shoulders like a blanket, giving him a small measure of peace. "I…think I understand, Master."

"Good. Now drink your tea. It is growing cold."

Leonardo smiled. "Yes, Father."

"D'you uh…d'you have a good time?"

Leonardo's mind spiraled back through all that had happened since he'd left, and he laughed. "Well…in a manner of speaking."

"Cool."

They stared at each other over the table. Leo's eyes softened and he slid his hand forward. Raphael, frozen, snapped his eyes up to his brother's face. Leonardo smiled.

Raph pushed back from the table and tossed his bowl in the sink. Before he left the kitchen he paused in the doorway and sent a suspicious glance over his shoulder. Then he was gone.

Leonardo shook his head, but still the smile lingered. "Yeah, Raph. It's good to see you, too."

**It's Time that you Won**

It was going to take time, I knew. But I was willing to wait. Because every time he looked at me, I saw him as he'd been in my jungle-dreams: golden, hesitant, hurt. I could fix that now. I could.

Because I could feel my brothers within me as never before. I felt each of them as a different heart beat, humming steadily next to my own. I could feel his strongest of all.

The night I returned home I went out walking into the sewers and retraced our steps from years ago, when we'd found this corner in the dark. I remembered his words, the look in his eyes. The water rushing against my ankles felt strange now, but I took comfort in that, too. I could understand it. I _knew _how it made me feel. It was cold, it was muddy.

It was home. And home was something that I now understood.

I tilted my head back and looked up, letting the breeze tug at my bandana tails. I smiled.

There, through the grating, I could see a wide-arcing spray of stars.

Author's Notes:  
There you go. The End. I sincerely hope it was enjoyed, and I apologize for any inconsistencies. Next multichapter plot-driven fic I'll work out the kinks.

Spanish translations: (As far as I can figure. I don't speak Spanish. At all. I had a friend do these.)

"la…la aldea? Esta" - The...the village?

"La aldea está en la selva, quizá veinte millas de aquí. No lejos. Goce la vista." - The village is in the jungle, about twenty miles from here. Not far. Enjoy the view.

"El fantasma hizo favores para nosotros. Ahora, he hecho una favor para el fantasma." - The ghost has done favors for us. Now, I have done a favor for the ghost.

Also, the two quotes in Raphael's POV part are both from John Steinbeck. The first is from _Of Mice and Men_ and the second is from _The Grapes of Wrath_.

Thanks again guys. Peace.


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